


Mental Autopsy

by MalikRuttingAssassinAss



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Al Mualim - mentioned, Altair - Convict, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Complete, Connor - hot friend, Death Row, Epilepsy, Epilepsy attack, Ezio - Mentor, Fingerfucking, Haytham - mentioned, Leonardo - Pathologist, M/M, Malik - Criminal Psychologist, Masturbation, Medication, Might make sequel!, Phone Sex, Prison Sex, Rauf - mentioned, Rebecca - mentioned, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:44:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikRuttingAssassinAss/pseuds/MalikRuttingAssassinAss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These… criminal psychologists, they called them, Altair pondered, were clever, manipulative, brain-digging people. They got inside your head and stuck their nose into every nook-and-cranny. Altair had been forced to sit in front of probably around 20 of the pricks, and this one wasn't about to rake any answers from him either. M/M Altair/Malik Prisoner Criminal Psychologist AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mental Autopsy

Altair could remember, vaguely, in a mist of confusion and movement, the day he was sentenced to death. He felt no fear. His heart did not skip a beat or jump into his throat…

He simply sat and dealt with it, like a big boy should.

Shackled around his wrists and ankles, his face covered by a morbid prison-mask, he quietly listened to the first death sentence being read out.

Then the next…

And again…

And the one after that…

He sat in silence as 10 counts of murder were read out, the juror announcing him guilty for each one, and a death sentence followed for every single murder. Altair found it all quite amusing. How many times did they intend to kill him? 10 fucking times..? 

“The men I killed were evil bastards! They raped this country of her power and threatened the Holy land! I do not feel remorse for any of their deaths! The world is a better place without them!” Altair had screamed through the mask as the guards grabbed his arms. He struggled, snarled and spat at the officers, slamming his elbow into one gut and punching his closed, shackled fists into another officer’s. 

Altair quietly laughed to himself in the small room, remembering the strange feeling of losing control of everything as a stun-gun sent enough volts through him to make him cripple and whimper like a paralytic child for the first time in his adulthood.

Perhaps beating the officers hadn’t been the best first impression? He’d been kept in “the hole” for 3 months after that, and the time since being placed back on death-row had been a blur of boredom, routine and simply accepting death was coming. 

Until now…

“What is making you laugh, Altair..?” 

Altair remained silent, simply grinning at the man opposite him in an off-putting manner. 

These… criminal psychologists, they called them, Altair pondered, were clever, manipulative, brain-digging people. They got inside your head, stuck their nose into every nook-and-cranny and refused to leave until every question had been answered. 

Altair had been forced to sit in front of probably around 20 of the pricks, and this one wasn’t about to rake any answers from him either. 

“I asked you a question, Altair.” The man grumbled. Altair nodded slowly, grin stretching wider across his face. Suddenly, he yanked his chains hard against the table and stood up, pushing his chair harshly to the floor. The man opposite him clearly recoiled, pushing back and staggering away from the table as guards grabbed Altair by the arms. Everything went silent again as Altair allowed the grin to fade, replaced with a tight lipped expression.

This man thought he had the right to demand answers? Didn’t he know who he was speaking to? Altair scowled, before slowly settling back into his chair, resting his shackled hands into his lap again. 

The man followed, albeit slower. He raked his eyes down the man, taking in his suit, tie, polished shoes and jacket resting on the back of the chair. What a stuffy fuck, Altair thought. 

“Why did you do that, Altair?”

“For the same reason you recoiled.” Altair finally whispered, eyes gliding upwards to follow the cracks in the tiles. “… Because you did not like being threatened…”

“Did I threaten you, Altair?”

“You like to say my name a lot. You say it better than anyone in this prison…” He whispered. The stuff-shirt paused, taking in the information for processing before his mouth was spewing words like a fax machine. Altair grinned at the shaken tone the man used.

“When did I threaten you, Altair? I would like to know so you do not feel threatened again.”

“You demanded answers you would not understand. You are far too deluded in this fake reality to give a shit about what is and isn’t real. And, I do not like your tone.” Altair snapped.

“Then I apologise, and it will not happen again.”  
“It better fucking not...”

The suited male took the time to study Altair, take in his appearance, before interpreting his words. 

“May I ask what made you laugh earlier..?” He finally muttered, leaning forward and linking his fingers on the desk. Altair looked down to those hands in front of him, studying how one set of fingers closed between the knuckles of a hand that looked to be locked in place. Altair made no effort to hide his staring as he concentrated on the stiffened hand. 

“Um… Altair..?”

“What is your name..?” He pulled his attention away from the hand, fixing his gaze at the criminal psychologist opposite him. 

“… My name… Dr.Al-Sayf-”  
“No!” Altair snapped as he leant forward in his chair. “Your name, real name, the one your mother and father gave you, not society.”

“I… suppose if you put it that way… It is Malik.”

“Malik Al-Sayf.” Altair whispered to himself, testing the name on his tongue.  
“You pronounce it well…” Malik smiled. Altair watched the man carefully, before nodding towards his hand.

“Prosthetic.”  
“I’m sorry?”  
“Your hand… It’s not real.”

“Oh.” Malik moved to take his hands from the table, but Altair was faster to pull his hands up and grasp Malik’s in his own. The guards moved quickly forward to restrain the prisoner, but Malik shook his head to them, a soft smile gracing his lips. “No, no, it is quite alright.” 

Altair glanced at the guards warily, before slowly looking back to Malik.

“Your disability makes you uncomfortable. It shouldn’t. You are not perfect, yet you wear that thing to pretend to be.” His hand tightened against the prosthetic, bending the fingers into an unnatural angle. “You shouldn’t hide.” Altair insisted.  
“… Let’s get back to business, shall we?” Malik murmured and pulled his hands free of Altair’s. 

“You can try…”

“The first time you killed, when was that?”

“I was 5 years old. There was a spider in my shoe… I showed it no mercy.”

Malik let out a soft chuckle, relaxing once again into his chair and loosening his tie. He popped open the top button of his shirt and sighed.

“You are playing with me, aren’t you, Altair?”

“Is it so obvious?” 

With a sly smirk, Altair reached over to hold the end of Malik’s tie. The guards started forward again, grabbing his shoulders and tugging him back into his chair. Malik held his hands up.

“You know what, if you wouldn’t mind, could you stand outside? I can handle myself.”

“What? No-”  
“Please…” Malik gave another of his genuine smiles and the guards relented. They had left before Altair had the chance to process what had happened. The guards weren’t here. He could do anything, he could strangle Malik, smother him, beat him to death-

He could feel his blood boiling at the thoughts-

“Are you comfortable..?” Malik called. The voice shook Altair free of his blood lust and he found himself slightly breathless, eyes clouded. He focused himself and his sigh t onto Malik and realised his hand was still holding the man’s tie. But Malik still seemed to be relaxed.  
“You put yourself in danger, to simply find answers..?” Altair whispered, his gaze shifting to the tie between his fingers. It was green, a light lime-colour. It complimented Malik’s dark skin, it would look ugly on a white man, Altair supposed.

“As I do every day of my life...” Malik chuckled. 

“I do not understand why you are here.” Altair sighed. “I am sentenced to die, all my victims have been found, buried and forgotten, why are you trying to find answers from me..?” He screwed his hand into a fist around Malik’s tie, giving a growl before letting go of the silk.

“You are all the same, aren’t you? You are trying to get the next “front page” for the gossip magazines, the next headline for the newspaper. ‘Shock new developments in the White Hood rippings.’ You’re all the fucking same!” Altair roared as he kicked the table harshly with his knee.

“No. I promise you, Altair. I am not a journalist, nor do I work with any… I do not wish for money, I simply want to help both you and the families of the victims understand what has happened, and why it has happened.”

“One of the families? You’re hired, aren’t you!?”

“Well, yes. But my own fascination made me pick up on your file. To see the face behind the mask, it is truly a thrilling venture.” Malik whispered, concentrating squarely on Altair’s face. Altair visibly cringed, before rolling his eyes skywards. “You do not believe me, do you?” 

“No, I do not.” Altair stated. 

“Here is the truth, Altair. I am a criminal psychologist. I was hired by one of the families to help get information from you. I made no promise about being able to get the information so many others have failed to get, so we can either sit here in silence, or we can actually get some work done. Besides, it’s not like you have much to return to anyway.” Malik shrugged and leaned back, arms folding rather clumsily over his chest. “It’s entirely up to you.”

“Do not pretend to care. Do not pretend in front of me ever again.” Altair snarled. “Be honest with me always, show me truth and I’ll show you the same in return. That is what we both want…”

The proposition was on the table and Malik would have been an idiot to reject it. Malik nodded, holding out his prosthetic hand. “You have yourself a deal.” 

Altair looked from the hand to the face of the man, before nodding in return and grabbing the hand to shake it. But then the criminalist was yanking his shoulder back and with a soft pop, the prosthetic arm slid out from inside his sleeve and thumped against the table. 

Altair stared for a moment, before shoving the offending item aside and resting his hands on the table, watching Malik pin his empty sleeve back up against his shoulder.

Altair liked this man already.

***  
The second meeting was a lot more comfortable, and the third, then the fourth. When the fifth came round, there was a significant change. Altair had shut down and only answered questions vaguely. So, when the sixth session came, he decided for a slightly different approach.  
Malik left his prosthetic at home, and though it earned him a few odd looks from those on the trains and street and super market, he did feel a lot better without it. 

Altair was already there, waiting, rubbing at the chains around his wrists absent-mindedly. 

“You’re late.” He murmured as Malik settled on the chair opposite, resting his notepad and pen on the table. “I thought men like you were perfect… never late for anything…”

“I may be perfect, but trains certainly aren’t.” Malik chuckled and pulled his chair up close to the table. “How have you been, Altair?”

“I’m still alive, so that’s a plus.” The convict huffed and looked to the dim light over them. 

“Still no execution date? I’m glad to hear it.”  
“You’d be the only one.”

Malik decided not to reply to that statement. He simply smiled and leant forward.

“Looking forward to our session?”  
“Hasn’t it already started? I can see you trying to boar into my brain already.” Altair turned his attention back to Malik and gestured vaguely with his fingers. “So start, then… Ask away…”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d ask some today. Get to know me a bit more. I know so much about you and it just feels rude to keep you in the dark about me…” Malik trailed off, noticing the sudden change in Altair’s stand-off-ish demeanour. His eyes flicked up to Malik’s and regarded him for a moment, probably trying to figure out if Malik was taking him for a fool or not. 

“Really..?” He whispered cautiously.  
“Yes. You seem surprised. Were you really expecting me to ask questions constantly and let you know nothing about me? You can ask anything you like and I will answer it, always with honesty.”

“Always?”  
“I promise, Altair.”  
Malik almost chuckled when the flicker of wonder caught in Altair’s eye. He seemed to be a child in a candy shop. With so much to pick and choose from, he clearly found it difficult to find the first question, the first sweet from the box.

“Aside from your arm, do you have any weaknesses..?” Altair paused and bit his lip. “N-not that it’s a weakness, I mean-”

“It’s alright. It is a weakness. Losing an arm certainly doesn’t make you stronger, unless you have it replaced by some super awesome bionic arm that can lift 4 cars and a boat.” Malik grinned. He was slightly put off by the question though. Why did Altair seem to jump straight in at weaknesses? It was unnerving, but he had promised to answer any question truthfully, no matter what.

“Yeah, I have a few weaknesses, I suppose…” He finally sighed, leaning on his elbow against the table. “My brother died fighting for this country…” 

Altair noted his tone had significantly lowered, like he was ashamed of the story. No. He was frightened of it, not only ashamed.

“I’m sorry…” Altair whispered as he reached across and grasped Malik’s hand, bringing it down to rest against the table, fingers linking tight. “If you don’t want to talk about it… You know, I’ll understand.”

“Thanks…” Malik smiled and squeezed the fingers between his own. “It’s a… sore subject... It only happened a year ago.”  
“Then speak no more of it… Do you have other weaknesses..?” Altair asked.  
Malik smiled and looked down at their fingers.

“I’m epileptic. The incident that took my arm also took some function of my brain.”  
“Incident..?” Altair inquired.  
“Yes…” Malik was suddenly looking very uncomfortable again, but Altair’s curiosity out-weighed his concern at that moment.

“I um… I was attacked. Being an Arabic man, being what I was… it was a disgrace to every man I knew, had known, and even some I didn’t… so…” Malik trailed off and Altair tightened his grip, comfortingly, on the criminologist’s fingers. Malik simply smiled at the gesture and continued. “The men from my own homeland abducted me, dragged me to a warehouse and proceeded to smash my arm into a pulp. They took turns jumping on it, spitting and pulverizing it with any object they could find. Then they pissed on me, calling me everything under the sun and they enjoyed it…” 

“Such disgusting men should be wiped from this planet.” Altair scowled. “Such ignorant men doing something like that to you for being a successful criminal psychologist…” He shook his head.

Malik chuckled and did the same as Altair, reaching to his chest to loosen his tie once he’d freed his hand from Altair’s grip. “I was 18 back then. I was still studying to be a criminologist.”

“Huh?” Altair blinked. “But then… what did you do to set them off? What caused them to revert to such horror..?”  
“I’m gay, Altair.” Malik laughed. “You really couldn’t tell?” He waved his hand to divert the conversation. “But anyway, they did it because they caught me kissing a man who had come to explore the holy land. He was Italian… very handsome. Looked a bit like you actually.” Malik grinned. 

Altair looked down, now very glad his skin was only just dark enough to hide a blush.  
“When they saw me, I ran. I ran for days on end and when they finally caught me, it was my own father who dealt the first blow. He allowed those men to do those horrible things. Stamping my arm into a pulp of blood and tissue, kicking my head in and breaking my ribs… I spent maybe a year in hospital after that? The first thing I did once I got out was to fly over here, and I have been happy ever since.” Malik shrugged and placed his hand back on the table, taking up his pen.

“What of your brother?”

“Kadar was only 12 at the time. I didn’t tell him until he came to America to come find me. We lived together for 5 years, then he joined the army and… well…”

“Fulfilled a life’s dream.” Altair added, giving a soft, rare smile. Malik caught it and gave Altair complete eye-contact. 

“Yes, I suppose that’s exactly what he did…” He smiled and placed the tip of his pen against his notebook. “You’re awfully nice sometimes, for a murderer.” He chuckled as he began to write his observations during the conversation. 

Altair simply shrugged and slumped back into his seat, running his fingers over the edge of the table.  
“So, your Epilepsy, do you control it with medicines..?” He asked.  
“Yes. If I don’t take them, it’s only a matter of time before I’m a crippling mess of limbs and drool as I chew my own tongue.” Malik smiled lightly at the insult he directed to himself. “Though I’ve been told it’s not that extreme when I do go into a fit. I give off… signs, apparently… I blink rapidly, stare into space, lose my sense of balance and go pale, if that’s even possible.” He laughed, gesturing at his own skin. “Sometimes I start to mumble in Arabic. But most of the time, I don’t realise anything is happening until I collapse. Unless there is someone there who knows my “tells” and picks up on them, then it’s usually sudden and unexpected.”

“It sounds terrifying, yet you accept it so easily.” Altair whispered, staring straight at Malik. “It’s probably scarier for those around you, seeing you are unconscious during the event, or at least unaware of it.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true. I keep a spray in my pocket-” Malik fished into his pocket and pulled out a small spray bottle, showing it, but not handing it to Altair, though the man made no effort to take it, probably understanding just how important it was to Malik. “Spray it under my tongue and it stops the fits before I have a stroke or a heart attack.”  
“Jesus…” Altair breathed. 

“Even he can’t help me when I fit.” Malik chuckled and waved his pen. “We should start our session. You can ask me anything you like, when you like, just let me do my job for the meantime, alright?”

Altair nodded, before leaning forward and waiting for the first question.

***

They met a few more times after that. Altair swiftly opened up to Malik. He went into detail about the killings, about the assassination contracts he had been assigned and the “Master” who had given such ‘missions’ to Altair.

And not once could Malik detect the man lying.

Who was this ‘Master’? He wondered. He listened for days, then months as Altair explained in vivid account of all the ‘assassinations’ (as Altair put it) he had performed. The amount of research and planning on all of his ‘targets’ (again, Altair’s words) was remarkable. Malik was fascinated, no matter how morbid the subject. He had to only ask one question and Altair would answer it with as much specifics as what was possible of his brain to digest.  
“Who is your ‘Master’, Altair?” Malik had finally asked one day.  
“Who was my final victim?” Ah. A question answered with a question. Conversations made of riddles, no matter how simple, was what Malik found most gratifying. He felt like he was facing a puzzle with no picture, but only words. It was only his intellect that was going to solve such a puzzle.  
“Your last victim was Rashid ad-Din Sinan. An elderly man, murdered with a clean cut across his abdomen, disembowelling him and causing a slow and agonizing death. He was found outside a wildlife sanctuary. Wolves had been eating him whilst he was still living.” Malik had described, remembering from the facts he had read about the murder. “Rashid was your ‘Master’? Why did you kill him in such a brutal way?”

“It was a fitting end. So long he had been a traitor to us, a wolf amongst the eagles and we could not see it until he had betrayed us. I thought it best to return our ‘Master’ to his… ‘brothers’ and see what they made of him…”

“And what do you think his ‘brothers’ made of him..?”

“Lunch, of course…” He had chuckled.

Malik would freely admit he was drawn to the man. He was so open-minded. He accepted everything around him, not necessarily as truth, per say, but at least being an option.

Malik had lost the suit at some point, he didn’t know when exactly, he had just started coming into the prison wearing jeans and a shirt, or jacket, or coat, depending on the season. Always something easy for the prison officers to search, he wanted to waste no more time away from Altair than he had to. 

Altair had made no effort to be subtle as he checked Malik’s stature out. The man was lean, muscled, tall, and handsome and most men in the prison would have him against their cell wall, fucking him without mercy. Altair would shudder when he thought about Malik in such a manner. That dark skin sweat soaked, heaving for air, crying for more as Altair pounded-  
But Altair could appreciate a fine looking body when he saw one. He could appreciate it as much as he liked in the privacy of his own cell. And he wasn’t ashamed to let his appreciation be heard by others.

Malik had flushed internally at the sight of Altair so visibly checking him out. The man had to be sizing him up, remembering his weakness and viewing him as fresh meat, a new victim, or the man was clearly jail bent.

Malik found himself either not caring, or possibly enjoying the effect he clearly had on the convict.

***

“You said you were Arabic, didn’t you? Where are you from?” Altair had suddenly asked one day. The personal question had caught Malik by surprise as he had been busy writing notes on a very morbid detail of one Altair’s murders. They had been on the subject of Altair flaying the skin from a Doctor at a hospital who had “supposedly” been testing dangerous, unregistered drugs on his patients. He could only guess the talk of skin had brought attention to the significant “tan” of Malik’s.  
Malik looked up from his notes, giving a small nod. “Yes. I’m from Jerusalem. Feel free to make Holy Land jokes, many people do.”  
Altair visibly stilled at the mention of “The Holy Land”. 

“Jerusalem..?” He stuttered in surprise. Malik gave another nod as he set his pen down on the table. 

“Yes. Does that spark something with you?” He questioned and leaned forward.

“My Father was from a place in Syria. He said it was very close to the “Masyaf Castle” that stands on a mountain.”  
“Ah, Masyaf, I know the place well, beautiful ruins.” Malik smiled. “I didn’t realise you were half-Syrian. Do you speak any Arabic..?”

“I’m rusty.” Altair murmured and played with the chain between his wrists. 

“Perhaps we can talk in Arabic if it makes you feel more comfortable about people listening in on us?” Malik grinned as the look of realisation dawned upon Altair’s face. The man returned the grin and leaned forward against the table, an enthusiastic nod the only reply Malik received.

And then,

“Good, I can tell you how great your ass looks in those jeans without being carted off to the hole. Again.” 

Malik had the decency to blush and turned his face skywards to try and keep professional. 

Then, to Malik’s surprise, Altair started to refuse his visits.

For three weeks, Malik had come in daily, asked to have Altair escorted from his cell to have another session with him, but every time, the officers had returned with no prisoner.

“I’m sorry, he won’t leave his cell. We have tried to get him here, but whenever we tell him you are here, he immediately shuts down and crawls into a corner.”

“Such odd behaviour…” Malik breathed, hand rubbing across his chin. “I was wondering, would it be possible to take me to his cell so that I can speak with him there?”  
“No. It’s out of the question. Death row is too dangerous to risk citizens in.”  
“Then perhaps if you move him to a cell away from other prisoners and I may try and talk with hi-” Malik found himself interrupted by the officers laughing at some sort of hidden joke. 

“Haven’t been watching the news, have ‘ya?” One of the guards laughed loudly. “All prisons are filled to capacity, even death row has convicts who are only in on minor offenses staying there, we simply don’t have the room for them anywhere else!” He roared with laughter, before straightening up. 

“Sorry, mate, but it looks like you’re gonna have to go home empty handed again.” The other officer sighed, almost sympathizing with Malik’s frustration.  
“Please, I just need to talk to him. Let me see him, if not for me, then the families of his victims…” Malik nearly started to beg, but he was too professional for that, he hoped. 

The guards shared a glance, before letting out synchronized huffs. 

“Alright. We’ll take you, but if he attacks you, we’ll be right outside the door. Just… scream or something.”

“Thank you.” Malik smiled, holding his chest. “You are kind men.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say, hurry up.” 

***

“Why are you refusing to see me, Altair..?”

Oh fuck.

Altair turned swiftly over on his bed. He usually ignored the opening and closing of his cell door, guards usually came in to check on him and he gave them no attention, but today, it wasn’t a guard. 

“Malik.” He stuttered. He rose against his flimsy bed and stared up at the man. He wore tighter-fitted jeans today, white-but-dirty converse and a button up-shirt buttoned all the way up. His right sleeve was rolled up, the left pinned to his shoulder. The shirt was tight, and Altair could only imagine what was underneath. And imagine he would. Nnnnnnnn… Now.

“Answer my question, Altair. We were doing so well, and now you can’t even be bothered to get off your fucking ass and come see me? I thought you were better than this!”

“Please, just leave, Malik. It’s best if you just accept what happened and that the only reason I did such things was because I was told to… I don’t know why you still come see me… The man responsible of making me do such things is dead, and with his death, I stopped killing…”

“Yes, but why did you do as he told you?”

“I told you, you wouldn’t understand and I would rather die happy, knowing you weren’t wrapped up in this horrible secret war than you being killed…” Altair murmured as he ran his fingers through the creases in his bright orange jumpsuit. 

“Damn it, Altair! You can trust me, you can tell me anything! I will and can defend myself, do not fear for my safety, I am stronger than you think-”

“Malik, please, stop!” Altair cried, drawing his knees up and grasping his short sandy-brunette hair. “Please… please stop asking questions… The answers will get you killed and I don’t want that…”

“A murderer doesn’t want me killed, that’s rich.” Malik rolled his eyes, before sighing and sitting beside Altair on his bed. “OK, fine, I will not ask that question again, but please, answer me my first question; Why are you refusing to see me..?”

Malik watched as Altair pursed his lips tight, before heaving a sigh and fishing under his thin-light-weight mattress for something. A few seconds later, the convict pulled a sheet- a letter from beneath the mattress. 

Malik knew immediately what it was. And in that split second of recognition, realisation made itself known also. Malik knew he was too close to Altair, he had allowed himself to become attached to a man who was destined to die this whole time…

And now there was a set date.

With a shaking hand, Malik took the letter, unfolded it and read what was typed there.

“Sentenced to death by lethal injection… on the 24th December…” Malik felt a choke escape him even before he knew he was crying. “On Christmas eve, what kind of sick joke is this?!” He shrieked, clenching the letter in his hand. “This isn’t right, you shouldn’t be put to death for things you were manipulated into doing!”

“What’s done is done, Malik. We cannot change this. Not even you with your criminology degree or your doctorate.”

“God.” Malik sobbed and put the letter aside to push his face into his hand. “It’s like I’m losing my own brother all over again.” He muttered. Altair watched the man, he was shaking uncontrollably, sobbing in silence and digging his fingernails into his thick black hair.

“I wanted you to hate me, to give up on finding answers and put me down as a loser, someone not worth your time…” Altair hesitated, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Malik’s temple softly. “I did not want to hurt you. But it seems we’ve both become quite attached…”

Malik turned his head, looking over Altair’s genuinely pained expression, before he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against the prisoner’s. Altair was still at first, but then he got over the shock and moved into the kiss, both his hands holding Malik’s cheeks. 

Then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Altair tore himself away and stood from the bed, pressing his fingers against his mouth as he paced. Malik stared into space for a few seconds, before his tongue swiped across his lips and tasted the saliva still clinging there.

“I don’t want to hurt you-”  
“So you keep saying, Altair, but I am hurting regardless of your efforts. You do not deserve to die… God, if only Rashid was still alive- he’d be on death row, not you!”

“If Rashid was alive, then I would still be killing who could only be innocent people dressed up to look like bad men by that bastard traitor’s words… If he was alive, I wouldn’t have stopped. I would have kept killing, protected by that man’s power on the authorities! I was a monster… I still am. This is the only way I can be stopped, I must die for what I have done-”

“There are different ways for atoning for your sins, like apologising in-person to the families you affected! Not this… please… I can appeal for you, present the evidence you have told me and get your death sentenced turned into a life without parole. I can save you, just allow me to!”

“Malik, just get out!” Altair suddenly cried, spinning to the man and showing the face he had hidden from Malik for the past 5 minutes. His eyes were red, his cheeks moist and his lips bitten red. “I don’t want to see you again, I want you to leave this fucking hole and stay away, for your own good.” He gave a hard swallow and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain inside his chest. “It hurts so much, but I want you to go now.”

“I will not.” Malik growled. His face set into a stubborn glare, his body unmoving from where it sat on the bed. “You will have to drag me out of the cell unless you agree to let me appeal for you.”

“Malik- fuck- Why don’t you want to listen..?” Altair snapped as his fingers worked into his hair.  
“Because I have to listen to idiots like you for a living, and for once I wish to correct your fucked up way of thinking! You are committing suicide by not appealing, have you not used any of your appeals?”

“No.”

“But you have been on Death Row for almost 6 fucking years! Why didn’t you fight it!?” Malik yelled.  
“Nothing to fight for-”  
“So then fight for me.” Malik paused, swallowing nervously at his own words and the looming result of Altair’s reaction. “Fight to live for me…”

The convict watched as Malik choked on his tears and buried his face in his hand again. His shoulders shook with his sobbing and Altair suddenly realised he didn’t know how to console the psychologist. Slowly, he approached the bed and the man upon it. He placed his hands on Malik’s shoulders and leaned down, brushing his lips against the slightly opened ones.

Malik reacted immediately, pushing back into the kiss with more force this time. His tongue slipped between Altair’s teeth and his fingers bit into the sandy-brunette hair the convict refused to keep tidy. Altair seethed at the tight pull and allowed his hands to trail from Malik’s shoulders, to his chest and pushed him gently onto the bed. It creaked threateningly under the weight of two fully grown men.

“Altair~” Malik swallowed, eyeing the door as the prisoner attacked his neck. “D-do not leave marks!” He hissed. “If you do, at least put them where no one can see them.”

A chuckle left Altair as he carefully unbuttoned Malik’s shirt, opened it and sunk down to leave a trail of kisses and bites across his chest and stomach.

His imagination hadn’t done the psychologist’s body justice. It was far better than he could have ever comprehended, and he was allowed to touch it. It wasn’t payment for a favour, or a shank or tobacco, it was given to him quite freely. It would be his first fully consensual lay for probably about a decade.

The next half hour was a rush of touches and lingering kisses as their clothes were tossed across the small cell. The bed was far too loud to use after the first initial thrusts proved. The guards had knocked, asking what was going on and Malik had replied, stifling a moan as Altair refused to stop, that Altair was “freaking out” and that it would be fine after he did the “rocking” exercise for a few minutes.

The guards didn’t care so much to mention it again. 

So the floor it was. Altair had been kind enough to lay a blanket down on the disgusting floor before he had made his move on the psychologist. Grabbing at each other, nipping and biting wherever they pleased, as long as they were hidden, at least on Malik, they managed their coupling in almost complete silence. 

A sharp gasp escaped the convict as he found completion inside Malik, his fingers tightening in the blanket either side of his head as Malik tightened vastly. The criminologist shuddered and squeezed his thighs tight around the man’s hips, squirming and biting on his wrist to be silent as he convulsed against the floor. 

“Jesus…” Altair panted once he had slumped against the floor, pulling himself free of the other.  
“I haven’t done that without lubricant before…” Malik murmured and slid his legs shut. “But that was… God…”  
“I apologise, lubricant is considered contraband.”  
“I will have to sneak a packet in at some point.”  
“No, don’t.” Altair moaned, sitting up slowly. “I don’t want you getting caught sneaking shit in. I will get some through the black market. I would rather take the heat for it than you… You could lose your job.”

Malik gave a sharp bite against his lip, then nodded and looked away. “Alright…” He sighed. “But, don’t tell anyone, alright? I don’t want to be kicked off the legal team when my evidence will be the most important thing there.”

“Legal team?” Altair cringed, recoiling from leaning against Malik.  
“Yeah, for your appeal…”

“Shit…” Altair groaned and rubbed his forehead. “I thought we had gone through this. I do not want an appeal-”

“But I do.” Altair immediately shut up, his lips pursing tight and a heavy breath escaping his nose. Malik looked up to the prisoner. His arm reached up awkwardly to him and found his lips. “Call it smitten, stupid or selfish, but I don’t actually want you to die.”

“It is what I deserve.” Altair muttered and gently teased the thumb resting on his lips.  
“I will hit you and not feel bad for it, Altair.” Malik grumped. A chuckle escaped the man as he finally let out a sigh and nodded.  
“If it keeps you busy, then I suppose you can appeal for me. I think I’d rather have this again on Christmas eve than a needle filled with deadly drugs injected into my blood.”

Malik shuddered and looked away.

“They will do that over my dead body.”

 

***

Malik staggered out of the court like a dazed, lost man. His eyes shot skyward as he mouthed a simple phrase towards the clouds rolling overhead. He would not remember what he had said until he sat opposite Altair in his cell. 

“So..?” Altair asked. They had simply sat in silence since the two guards had allowed Malik into the cell. Malik shook himself from his shock and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“They denied it, didn’t they? I knew it.” Altair huffed and slumped back on the bed, resting back against the wall. “Waste of tax-payers money, this whole appeal process…”

“You’ve got a re-trial.” 

“I know you’re upset Mal-…” Altair’s eyes widened and his eyes shot back to the criminologist in front of him. “Re-trial?”

“Yeah… um… All of the jurors, they were paid to vote guilty… The evidence has only come to light…There will be a re-trial, with new evidence from the FBI, county police and myself… We will be defending you…” Malik let out a weary chuckle and loosened his tie, having come straight from the court-house. 

“Holy… fucking… shit.” Altair whispered, hands grasping at his forehead. “I wonder who paid them..?”  
“Probably the other side of this war you are fighting, that you still have to tell me about.” Malik suggested as he fixed Altair with a defiant stare.

Altair cringed and looked away, rubbing his chest. “I really would rather not. Not right now anyway. Wait until the outcome of the re-trial at least, please..?” He paused. “But I suppose you are right. It was probably those bastards. They have more money than our side, that is all I will say for now.”

“Understood…”  
“How can we be sure the new jury won’t be bought-out the same as the last?”  
“We can’t…” Malik sighed. “This is why we have an anonymous jury. They have been placed in a witness protection program and will remain there until the end of the trial.”  
“Seems like a lot of trouble.” Altair murmured mostly to himself.

“YOU are the only trouble here, Altair.” Malik huffed as he kicked the man’s side. “Always complaining- I just worked my ass off for you, the least you could do is maybe give a little appreciation.”

“Oh?” Altair grinned and sat up. “Appreciation, huh?” He chuckled as his fingers brushed across the front of Malik’s trousers.

“Stop that.” Malik huffed as he straightened up onto his feet. “We have to be quiet about this until after the trial, then we can run around naked and have as much gay love as we desire. For now, though, we must be professional.”

“I’m pretty sure we can be professional and still have plenty of sex.”  
“They’ve been showing Sex and the City in the television room again, haven’t they?”  
“It’s like porn to us, very very mild porn, but come on. We’ve been sucking dicks and fucking ass the whole time, we just need to see a woman to remind ourselves there’s some still out there somewhere.” Altair whined, grabbing Malik’s leg and giving it a gentle shake. “Do not judge me.”

“I’m glad I can act as your woman until you’re free to go fuck one.” Malik grumbled and left the room quickly. “Good night, half-breed.”

“Sweet dreams, my Arabian night.”

Malik was pretty sure there was an insult in there somewhere.

 

***

Malik wasn’t entirely sure when he gave Altair his phone number, but one night, curled up on his sofa with his overly-sized blankets wrapped around him, he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He ignored the call, hoping to concentrate back on his highly intellectual program of Mythbusters and drown out his phones existence. 

After the third ring, he realised quickly he wasn’t about to get any peace. Fumbling deep into the blankets, he found his phone and swiped his thumb across the screen to answer the call.

“Hello, Doctor Al-Sayf speaking, how may I help?”

“God that is so hot, you have no idea.”

He nearly threw the phone at the TV in shock. But he refrained. He wasn’t that much of a girl.

“Altair, how did you get this number..?”  
“Swiped it from your phone when we fucked-”  
“ALTAIR! Do not say such things, they record these calls from the prison!”  
“Relax, I managed to get a cellphone through the black market. Cost me all my tobacco and lube, sorry love, but I … I think I’m more addicted to your voice than either tobacco or posh hand-jobs.”

“Charming. You need to make sure you delete all the data on that phone whenever you use it. I don’t need them finding your phone and tracing my number.”

“I’m not dumb. I type your number in manually and I have hacked the phone to delete all memory every minute…” Altair let out a sigh and the sound of shuffling, like he was moving on his bed could be heard. “I really miss you.”

“I’ve been gone two days. You know I’m busy preparing for the new trial and I try to pay visits, you know I do, but it’s… it is better if we limit our visits until after the trial. But at least we have the phone to tide us over.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced, not even trying to either. 

“Don’t be so glum… Everything will be… shit. I will not jinx it, I may be a psychologist, but even I won’t tempt fate.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” Altair chuckled, then shifted again. That bed had probably done permanent damage to Altair’s spine, Malik thought. 

“I wish I could give you a back massage…” Malik found himself whispering down the phone. He shifted beneath the blankets and turned off the TV, glad to not have the massive, awesome, yet unnecessary explosions on Mythbusters interrupting their conversation.

“I really want that too.” Malik could hear the smirk in Altair’s voice, and he couldn’t deny how much he just wanted Altair in general. “You’re not busy now, right..?”

“No, what do you need..?”

“Do you fancy another tour around my cell? I got a new poster…” Altair muttered in one of the most childish voices Malik had heard him use.

“It’s 2 am, Altair… I’m awake on coffee and Haribo right now, when I crash from this sugar/caffeine high, I’ll crash through the floor. And I don’t want to be driving when that happens.”

“Or indeed viewing my new poster.”

“Is that a euphemism..?” Malik huffed.

“Could be.”

Altair’s chuckling grew a little louder as Malik huffed down the phone, his eyes looking up to the ceiling. 

“Stop with the euphemisms, what did you call me for..?”  
“You, of course.”

“Oh. I thought you actually had something to talk about.” 

Altair didn’t say anything for a while, and Malik began to believe he had genuinely hurt Altair’s feelings.  
“Sorry…” Malik whispered after a while. “I’m just stressed, that’s all.”  
“I know, it’s fine. I went silent because there were footsteps.” Altair muttered quickly.  
“This is dangerous, Altair.” Malik whispered, as though the prison guards were listening right over his lover’s shoulder. “Shit, if they catch you with that phone-”

“Allow me to worry about such things.” 

Malik went silent as he sank further into his blankets, moaning in defeat.

“You are a pain in my ass…”

“I’m sure I am, Malik.” He could hear the prisoner’s grin through the phone. Malik gave an eye-roll, though knew there was no way Altair could see it. Settling back, he could hear Altair doing the same, shifting his weight on the beyond-shit bed.

“Come see me soon. Won’t you?” Not so much as a demand than a question. Altair had always been that way. He would sooner seek Malik’s approval than force him to do something he didn’t wish to do, Malik realised. It was probably the kind of behaviour that got him into trouble with Rashid in the first place. 

“Of course… I will try my best.” Malik couldn’t help but smile.  
“You don’t mind if I…” The man trailed off. 

His smile grew and a chuckle shook him as he soon realised what Altair was insinuating.

But he liked these games with Altair.

“What is it, hm?” He called, grinning like an idiot by this point.  
“I … I just…kind of…”  
“Do not stutter, be out with it.”  
“I … want to say… I …”

“If it troubles you, you don’t have to say it.” Malik whispered.

“I want to. But I’ve never said it to anyone before.”

Malik shifted deeper into his blankets, pulling them tight around himself and creating a cocoon of warmth. The words Altair was definitely going to say were probably the hardest besides maybe “I’m sorry for killing a member of your family”. Malik felt his heart hammer within his chest, a sense of butterflies dancing within his guts. 

“So then say it.” He smiled. Altair spent a good few minutes bracing himself, and Malik allowed him to prepare for whatever needed to be said. The man was about to open himself up in the most exposing manner, and it would be up to Malik to accept or reject such a declaration of love.

“You made my dick all hard and shit.”

“You are the worst man I have ever had the displeasure to meet!” Malik suddenly cried down the phone. Laughter erupted from the other end of the line.

“I know what it is you expected me to say, but I won’t say it until we are face to face. I won’t cheapen the words by saying it down a phone…” He had whispered that, obviously not wanting anyone to think he was talking on a phone. He preferred them thinking he’d finally gone bat-shit insane.

“Oh…” Malik blinked.

“But you should know all my emotions are genuine. I will never lie to you.” He sighed. 

Malik took the momentary silence to think, his fingers worrying a stray thread on one of the many blankets. “I wish you were here… I’m all wrapped up warm in at least a dozen blankets… I want you here so fucking much right now.” Malik only just stopped himself from crying, his hand shaking as he set the phone before him and turned on the loud-speaker. “I just want you to touch me, and allow me to touch you back…”

The mood had significantly changed from there. 

Altair let out a shaken breath against the receiver. He could hear the sheer want in Malik’s voice and he couldn’t deny he wanted exactly the same things.

Soon, Altair was guiding Malik’s actions with his voice and vice versa. 

“Altair~” A gasp escaped Malik’s lips as his fingers slid down, pulling the drawstring of his pyjama pants loose and sending his fingers lower. 

“God, I want you inside me so much…” Altair breathed down the phone.  
“What are you doing..?” Malik moaned, grasping himself firmly and giving a few short tugs.  
“My fingers…” He whimpered.

Malik decided he didn’t need any more explanation than that. He allowed his mind to warp those words into an image, and he enjoyed that specific image very much. 

“I… I really need to fuck you, don’t I?” He growled, his actions growing in vigour as Altair’s breathing became heavier. “I want you to put three fingers in and reach for that spot.”

“Whatever you say…” After a few minutes, Altair’s breath hitched as his three fingers found that spot and pushed at it delicately. He shifted, legs falling open and spine arching. His other hand still held the phone to his ear, listening to the way Malik took laboured breaths and whimpered softly.

“Oh! God, Malik!” He stuttered, throwing his head back and continued his incessant rocking against his fingers. “Malik, talk to me, I’m so close to cumming-”

“Push them deeper you whore.” Malik growled, his hand working faster and faster, giving a soft twist whenever necessary.

With a sharp hiss, Altair threw back his head and bucked into his hand, his fingers dug deeply within whilst his other hand held the phone against his ear to hear those delicious moans from the other end. 

“U-uh~” Altair tried to speak, but his pleasure was too immense. With one final press, Altair tightened his thighs around his wrist, squirming and cumming under the sheets. He cried out, muscles tensing and fingers cramping from the position, but still his orgasm persevered. 

Malik listened to the gasps, moans and whimpers of the man’s orgasm. He wished he could have seen his face, but he didn’t doubt he would be able to see it soon again.  
Still pumping furiously, Malik writhed under his own ministrations. He could still hear Altair gasping and almost sobbing from his orgasm and couldn’t deny how much it got him off. Spreading his legs within the confines of the blanket cocoon, his hand moved faster, his mouth opening in a silent scream and his whole body arching as his completion tore through him like a bullet. 

…  
…  
“Altair…” Malik whined and pulled his hand out from his pyjama pants. A dark wet spot had been created in the grey material, but he didn’t mind.  
“Malik…”  
“Jesus, this is so fucked up…”

“That’s what makes it so exciting.” Altair chuckled down the phone, now only the slightest bit breathless.

“Yes, now, before you fall asleep in your post-orgasmic bliss, please, hang up, hide your phone and then feel free to pass out. Please. I don’t want any drama going on inside the prison whilst I try and get you out.” Malik sighed and shifted uncomfortably. “Jesus, such a mess…”

“Alright, I understand.” Altair moaned and Malik could hear the bed give that damned squeak as Altair left it. “Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

“Got it. Sleep well, ok? Stay safe.”  
“I will. Don’t stress yourself too much.”

Malik simply chuckled, but gave a discrete nod to himself regardless.  
“Good night, half-breed.”  
“Stop calli-”

***

He had never felt such nerves before. Even with the safety of his shackles, he felt like people expected him to break free, start a rampage and rip people limb from limb. Maybe 6 years ago, but not now. He was changed for the better. They couldn’t see that though. They wanted to believe that the average looking man was a monster and would always be one. 

He had the decency to lower his head when it came to walking past the families of the victims. He felt their eyes boar into his skull and the shame along with it. 

“Bastard.” An old woman hissed, but a man beside her put a hand to her arm to console her, or stop her swearing. Probably both, Altair didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry.” He made eye-contact with the woman who had sworn at him, keeping it there as he repeated his words. “I’m so sorry-” He grunted as he was kicked discretely by an officer to continue to the clear box the accused sat in. He was forced onto the chair and chained to it. 

How fucking demeaning… Chained to a chair like he was still a threat to anyone. But Altair kept a straight face in light of the charges against him. Some of his crimes were cruel, disturbing and down-right horrific. Best not give the jury, who were behind a two-way mirror, any more incentive to re-instate the death penalty.

Altair scanned the court for Malik. The judge seemed to be doing the same thing when Altair took a second to look over to him. The judge leaned over, said something to the bailiff and watched as the man took out his phone and left through a side-door, probably the jury deliberation room. 

The court didn’t have to wait long before Malik was bursting into the door and making a B-line for the Defence’s table. He quickly organised his papers and turned to the judge. “My apologies, your honour, the trains were delayed. I believe the pathologist was on the same train as I, he should be here shortly.” Malik addressed the judge, before seating himself next to Altair’s lawyer. 

“Thank you Doctor Al-Sayf.” The Judge nodded, before settling back in his seat and again, waiting patiently for the final court-attendant to arrive. 

Altair turned his attention to the Defence table, giving Malik a small smile, before glancing at his lawyer. The man was British, pretty good looking and had the snarky, sarcastic wit of a pure-bred Londoner. He watched as the man pushed up his glasses and continued to read through all of Malik’s notes on the table. 

The doors were shoved open a second time and in came a man who looked every bit as dishevelled as Malik had been, and even more so. He had blonde hair, shoulder length, tied back in a ponytail and freckles dotted his face. He was probably around 35 years of age, if Altair could guess. The pathologist made the same apologies as Malik and sat at the Defence’s table also. 

The trial began from there. Altair managed to drown out the technical-law-drawl and concentrated on not drawing attention to himself. He glanced to Malik a few times, but each time, the man was deep in conversation with the Defence Lawyer. They appeared to be discussing something important, so Altair left them to it and tuned back into the Judge’s speech.  
It was a few hours into the trial that he began to notice a significant change in Malik’s behaviour. He was staring right ahead and slow to react to Hastings’ suggestions, or whatever he leaned over to talk about. Altair leaned forward in his chair, causing most faces to turn to him and watch his every move. He ignored them. He ignored them because Malik hadn’t given any attention to his movement like everyone else had as the Prosecuting lawyer continued to speak. 

Malik lowered his head, his hand pressing against his forehead as his pen dangled from his fingers. He was blinking rapidly. Altair grunted as he pulled on the chains of his chair discretely, causing more heads to turn his way. 

“Be quiet, defendant.” The guard outside of the glass box hissed at him. “Sit still.”

The pen dangling from Malik’s fingers dropped as another sign made itself known. Malik straightened up from leaning slightly to the side, to only have his balance thrown off more as he slumped to the floor. Altair pulled hard on his chains as the people of the court gasped. The bailiff hurried over to the man writhing on the floor, his radio in his hand as he demanded an ambulance from it. 

“Malik..!” Altair cried whilst yanking hard on the chains keeping him attached to the chair.

“Shut up, Altair, let the Bailiff deal with this.”

“Court adjourned, please leave calmly whilst this problem is dealt with.” The judge called out and stood from his seat.

“A problem!? He is not a fucking problem, he could die, you prick!” Altair snapped, before kicking the wall of the clear box. “He has a spray in his poc-!”

“I said ‘be quiet’!” The guard to his left entered the box and started to un-cuff Altair from the chair. “Let’s get you back to your cell until this is ove-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Altair threw his head back, slamming it into the guard’s nose, before sprinting out to the small group of people around Malik. Shaun Hastings to his left, the bailiff to his right and the pathologist keeping a hold of Malik’s tongue so he didn’t swallow it. 

“Shit!” The bailiff yelped and reached for his tazer.

“No! Please!” Altair held up his hands. “I promise, I won’t hurt anyone…” He slowly moved forward and reached into Malik’s pocket. The bailiff watched cautiously, then glanced at the guard who had been knocked out inside the box. “Jesus, Altair, did you have to do that?” He grumbled, before setting his sights on Altair and his actions. 

“The guy’s been asking for it all day.” He huffed, before finding the spray and popping off the cap. He shook it briefly before leaning forward and carefully spraying under Malik’s tongue a few times. The man almost immediately stilled from his fitting, his hand slumping against the floor. He handed the spray to the bailiff, got up, and returned to the box. He sat quietly and made no effort to look over to the team around Malik. He just stared at the criminologist and prayed silently that he would wake up.  
The judge had been watching the whole thing from where he stood, eyes trained on Altair. He made no effort to hide his disbelief, so instead, simply rubbed his brow and swore quietly under his breath. Deciding it would be a better option, Altair rose from his seat and turned to the guard he had knocked out. He took a tissue from the man’s pocket and gently dabbed the blood running from his nose. His skull still throbbed from hitting the guard, so he knew it was a powerful strike. 

“Altair, I think you should sit back down.” The judge called. Altair turned swiftly, staring at the Judge who now stood inside the box with him. He bit his lip, before dropping the bloodied tissue. 

“I’m sorry… But he wouldn’t let me speak, Malik- er, Dr. Al-Sayf needed his medicine… He has epilepsy, you see, so…” He trailed off, standing away from the guard. “I’m sorry. But I thought it was more important to save a man than to behave myself.” 

“Well, you certainly did save the man…” The judge supposed, gesturing towards Malik. “But you did knock another out. But I’m willing to pretend I didn’t see anything if you behave yourself for the rest of the trial. Chances are, the jury saw your little performance. So keep yourself in check and it’ll have a better impression, because you’re going to need it, what with the charges against you.”

With that, the judge left the box and approached the team around Malik. 

After a few minutes, paramedics had strapped Malik into a gurney and were lifting him out of the court room. Altair yearned to follow them, to grab Malik’s only hand and squeeze it for dear life, but… he couldn’t. The guard had been taken away to be treated for a broken nose by the same paramedic team, and now he was simply sat on the chair, instead of chained to it. He was still handcuffed, but that was fine compared to being strapped down like a wild animal. 

With Malik gone, Altair successfully drowned out the days’ worth of court proceedings.

***

“You said your fits weren’t as extreme as you thought… It’s a bit different when you have to watch the man you care for so deeply writhing on the floor, seeming to be in the worst pain imaginable…”

“Altair…” Malik smiled. He had gotten home a few hours prior after spending a few days in the hospital and had been curled up in bed ever since. Until his phone had gone off. “Where are you?”

“I’m back in prison for now. They’ve adjourned until after thanks-giving, so I have a few days to myself.” Altair hesitated. “Are you alright..?” He whispered.

“Yeah, I’m just left with a cracking headache now… Shaun told me what you did in the courthouse, Altair… You shouldn’t have done that. You could have messed up everything…”

“And let you die? Fuck off, I’d rather you be alive, to be honest.” Altair grumped down the phone. “Are you sure you’re fine..? You shouldn’t be alone, you’re still fragile.”

“Honestly Altair, I only forgot to take my Epilepsy pills, It’s not like I had a fit regardless of taking them or not… I … I’m fine, promise. I’m taking them… I forgot to that morning, I was in such a rush…”

“Shit, you almost died because of all this work you’re doing for me… Malik, put yourself first, not me, you know how important you are to this case… and to me…” He whispered the last part, shifting on his shitty bed to get more comfortable. “If I lose you… Jesus, I’ll lose my mind…”

“Altair…” Malik breathed, before closing his eyes and smiling softly. “Altair, I promise you, I am fine. You won’t lose me… I’m more scared of losing you, to be honest. I… I love you too much…”

“Malik…”

“I know you said you would say it in person because you didn’t want to “cheapen the words” by saying them over the phone but I don’t know if we’ll be left alone together anytime soon, so I-”

“I love you too, Malik.” Altair’s words had Malik’s excuses silenced. He fumbled with the blankets around him, before letting out a small noise of nervousness.  
“I’ve never… had someone say that to me before…”  
“Apart from just now, neither have I. And it feels really good to be loved… Really good…” Altair sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

“You deserve no less, Altair.”

Altair chose to ignore those words, rather than argue with them.

“What are you going to do over Thanks Giving..?” He asked instead.  
“What I usually do, I suppose… Interview maniacs like you.” Malik chuckled and slowly sat up in bed, giving a few huffs from the effort. He hated the after-effects of an Epileptic fit. It made him sluggish, achy and slow to understand most things. He remembered one time, after a fit, he spent 2 hours in front of a washing machine down in the basement of his apartment building, trying to figure out how to use it again. It took until someone who knew of his condition, Rauf; he believed his name was, to help him figure it out.  
And it took Altair three tries to get a hold of him before Malik had been able to effectively answer his phone without hanging up by accident.

“… I still think you shouldn’t be alone right now.”  
“I don’t have much of a choice, Altair. I have no one around to care for me, and I doubt you’d be comfortable with another man taking care of me… Right..?” Malik smiled to himself as Altair fell silent for a moment. “Someone walking past, or don’t want to admit I’m right..?”

“I’m worried… really worried. What if you have another fit, there’s no one there to help you by spraying your medicine under your tongue.” Altair almost whimpered. “I can’t lose you…”

Malik sighed and sat there for a while, contemplating what to do.

“I have a friend who is studying medicine. He’s straight, as far as I know… If you would let me, I could ask him round. He’s been looking for a place to stay in the city for a while.”

“If it keeps you safe, then I will accept anyone’s help, cock or not.” Altair said firmly. “But that means, if he stays with you, I will not be allowed to call you. I do not wish for him to find out about us… I don’t know if he can be trusted.”

“I’m sure he can be…”  
“I will not trust him.” Altair huffed. “Please, don’t even try to tell him, it’ll be easier this way.  
“Alright, yes, fine. Jesus…” Malik sighed, before slumping back on his bed, moaning quietly to himself. “I honestly do not want to get up…” He mumbled.

“Well, then don’t. If you tell him what has happened, he will understand.”

“Did I mention he looks a lot like you, just slightly darker and longer hair..?” Malik dared to laugh, but Altair was silent on the other end.

“I trust you are not shallow enough to go on looks alone, Malik.” He finally huffed and hung up abruptly. Malik pulled the phone from his ear and struggled to find Connor’s number. 

The call was short. Connor was usually blunt and swift to the point, which Malik was grateful for as he was beyond able to provide small talk at that moment.

“I will be at your apartment in an hour. Do not worry about opening the door for me, I will ask the building’s maintenance man to do it. He will simply need to get permission from you first. He will call you on your phone, perhaps.” Connor had said in his flat tone. “Thank you Malik, I will repay you by taking care of you, you have my word.” And with that, the man had hung up.

Malik had vaguely remembered saying “hello, Connor, could you come over, I’ve had an epileptic fit and need some assistance, you can stay whilst you study. Can you help?” and Connor had done the rest for him.

Malik reckoned the only reason Landlords didn’t want Connor staying in their apartment buildings was because Connor looked… well… downright scary. He was big, probably a little bigger than Altair, had a fierce scowl and had shaved the sides of his head so only a strip of hair and a pony tail remained. Malik personally didn’t mind the look, he thought it was unique, and all Connor was doing was embracing his Native American origins.

Luckily, Malik owned his apartment and didn’t need to ask any landlord permission for him to stay. Sometimes being so fiercely independent had its perks… sometimes…

 

***

Malik hadn’t been aware he’d fallen asleep until his bedroom door was being carefully opened, spreading light into the room and waking him from his slumber. He groaned and rolled over in bed, his head turning towards the door.

“Ay, Doc, you say you want dis Connor guy in your apartment..?” The maintenance guy called, his keys swinging loudly by his belt. Malik squinted into the light and slowly gave a nod. 

“Y-yeah, Connor Kenway, he’s staying here. Thanks for letting him in, I can’t… really get up…” Malik chuckled softly, before dragging himself to sit up properly in bed, groaning in effort. “Thanks.”

“No prob, man.” The Maintenance guy grinned, before turning to someone out of sight in the living room. “Ya make sure you take care of him.” He said in a firmer tone, before leaving the apartment.

Malik blinked slowly, slumping back in bed to use his hand to rub his eyes. “Mn… Hey Connor...” He slurred.

Connor cautiously appeared around the corner, before sliding into the room and approaching the bed. “How are you feeling, friend..?” He asked. Malik smiled and pat the bed. Connor took the incentive and seated himself on the bed next to Malik. “Any better..?”

“Hn, not really. But it’s a relief to have someone here, just in case.” Malik whispered, eyes trailing over the ceiling before settling on Connor. “How’s everything been with you? Easier, I hope.”

“It is still awkward between my father and I, what with he being… different than I…” Connor looked away, his vagueness a sure sign of wanting the subject gone. Malik took the hint and nodded, patting Connor’s leg comfortingly. 

“I think you’re old enough to set out on your own and leave him behind.” He sighed. “You can stay here as long as you like-”

“I will pay you rent. I am not a free-loader.” Connor gave a short smile, before leaning forward and pressing his palm over Malik’s forehead, then checking his eyes. “You are dehydrated. You must drink something before you go to sleep.” He muttered before standing and leaving the room.  
When the man returned, he held a pitcher of cold water in one hand, a glass in the other. “I put lemon in it, the vitamins should help you recover-”

“And keep me very much awake...” Malik smiled as Connor blinked.  
“Oh…”  
“It is fine, I need to get some work done anyway…” 

Connor looked to the clock, noting the time as 12:15 am, then moved to place the water by the bed.  
“It is late Malik… But if this is what you wish to do, then do so.” He muttered. “Do you need any help with your work..?”

“I wish, but the work is sensitive material for a current trial I am involved in.” Malik murmured and took his papers from his bedside table, snapping the lamp on after. “The details are… quite horrific.”

“Is it the “white hood” murders..?” Connor inquired. Malik immediately looked up from his notes and fixed Connor with a half-amazed, half suspicious gaze. “It is in the news…”

“There are plenty active trials in court at the moment, Connor, why do you think it is the “white hood” case..?” Malik frowned, settling his notes in his lap.

Connor was silent for a while. The man didn’t have a talent for lying, and did it very rarely. 

“I was simply guessing.” Yup, truly awful...

“Bullshit.” Malik grumbled. “Tell the truth.” He watched as Connor sighed hard and shifted on the spot uncomfortably.

“My father told me about the case, told me you were trying to get Altair Ibn-La’Ahad out of prison for what he did to those people…”

“How does your father know anything about the case?” Malik hissed.  
“He was at the previous trial, six years ago.” Connor paused. “He was the Judge.”

Malik went still, staring up at Connor in shock.

“The… the judge..?” He stuttered.

Connor simply nodded.

“But since you have been speaking with Altair, he must have told you all about the secret war that spurred these murders, and many others.”

“…” Malik took a few seconds to calm his nerves. He could use this situation to find out the information Altair would not share with him. But why did Connor know of it..? He decided not to worry about it for now. “Yes.” Malik lied.

“So then he told you about how an assassin retires? They either die in service, or they are put in prison, where they remain, silent about their role in this secret war, until they die.” Connor gave no notice to Malik’s quick note-taking.

“When Altair killed the old Assassin Mentor, the leader of the assassin order, he was too late. Rashid had already given all the necessary evidence to the police to lock Altair up for good. Rashid intended to have Altair locked up and killed before he was killed himself, but Rashid was too slow on the last part.” Connor took a breath and sat on the bed beside Malik.

“Long story short, we assassins were betrayed by Rashid, he had been working with the Templars the whole time to gain power beyond comprehension. Altair found out, and Rashid tried to get rid of him. He did, just, after Altair killed him.”

“Rashid gave Altair orders to kill those men, why?” Malik asked.

“We all get orders to kill, Malik, even myself.” Connor shrugged, before staring at his hands that incessantly picked at one another. “We are assassins… It is what we are born to do. We fight for freedom by killing those who threaten it… Those men threatened our freedom, but Rashid made sure the men had families that would miss them so Altair would look like a monster to the public. It made it easier to lock him up.”

“But these men were… how did you put it..? Templars..?” Malik inquired. Connor nodded.

“Yes. The other side to this horrific war. The Templars strive peace, but the means in which they want to achieve that is far from what we assassins call freedom. They want to control every mind, enslave us all so that there are no wars, no bloodshed… If they would only back down, we would be able to achieve such peace without controlling minds…”

“So you are an assassin, as well as Altair..?” 

“Yes… I would have thought he’d explained all of this when he told … you…” Connor stopped and shook his head. “Oh no… He didn’t tell you, did he? You lied to me-”

“It is only because he refused to tell me, Connor, I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.” Malik held his hand up, hoping for peace. “Please, I want to know everything… It is so very important-”

“No!” Connor growled, before calming himself. “Malik, I have already said too much…”  
“Then what stops you from saying more? The damage is done, so tell me everything.”

Connor let out a low snarl of defeat, before slumping down on the bed beside Malik, glaring at the ceiling. “Altair will kill me for this, I hope you realise this…”

“I think I can convince him to still his blade.” Malik whispered, turning over to keep a watchful eye on Connor and his reactions. “Please tell me more.”

“Fine…” Connor took a breath, before continuing. “My Father, Haytham Kenway, the judge at Altair’s first trial, is a Templar. It was- still is very important to keep this entire Assassin VS Templar stuff secret… So my father was issued in as Judge of the trial. They bought the jury, making sure they would pronounce Altair guilty. And then they sat back and relaxed, got their death penalty verdict as a thank you for the bribe, then threw Altair in death row. And all to keep this secret war secret.” 

“I still do not understand why Rashid planned to do this to Altair from the start..? Altair gave me the impression that he used to look up to Rashid, as a son would to a father, perhaps.” Malik muttered, rubbing his head. 

“Altair was getting too cocky. He challenged Rashid on everything and made decisions behind his back. To be honest, Altair’s decisions were always wise and benefited the order, but Rashid saw it as Altair laughing behind his back. Truth was, Altair was just better at doing everything Rashid did, and Rashid hated that. When Altair started to suspect what Rashid was doing, Rashid made sure to get rid of Altair. Unfortunately, Altair got rid of Rashid before he was imprisoned.” Connor sighed and rubbed his eyes. “But the damage was already done against Altair, and he was soon arrested and … you know the story from there…Please do not tell Altair I told you any of this, he will kill me, that is for certain.”

“I promise…” Malik smiled. “Jesus, I did not know such a thing existed outside of video games or movies… It’s so… fucked. I hardly believe it.”

“I would not lie to you like you had to me.” Connor announced bluntly. Malik grinned and shrugged.  
“Would you have not done the same if you were trying to save a man’s life..?”

“Why are you saving his life? He has finished his service as an Assassin. If he was to be set free of prison, he would have to revert back to being an assassin or face death regardless. It is death or be an assassin… I feel Altair did not appeal his death penalty because he truly wished to die than be an assassin again…” Connor stopped, noticing the realisation spread across Malik’s face. “Perhaps you should speak with him when you are well enough to visit the prison…”

“No. I’m going to speak to him now.” Malik grumbled and dug his phone out from where he had pushed it during his slumber. He found it under the pillows and quickly dialled the number, suddenly not caring about Altair’s demand of not calling him. “I hope he’s clever enough to put the damn thing on vibrate.”

“You… he has a phone..?” Connor blinked.

“Tell anyone and I will cut your pony tail off and shove it up your ass.” Malik snarled. “He calls me when he needs to. It keeps him from losing his mind in that hell hole.”

Connor simply stared, before sighing and rolling his eyes. “Once an Assassin, always an Assassin, I suppose.”

“Wh- … who..?” An exhausted voice called from the other end of the line.

“You and I need a serious fucking talk.” Malik growled as he turned his attention to the phone, turned on the loud speaker and placed it on the bed as he picked up his notepad and pen again.  
“Can’t you wait til you’re better to have phone sex..? Or at least the morning..?” 

Connor gave a wide-eyed stare at Malik.

Malik pursed his lips tight, before releasing a heavy sigh through his nose. 

“All this secret war stuff, it’s why you were locked away, isn’t it? So it would be kept quiet.”

Altair said nothing. By the sound of it, he didn’t even breathe.

“You killed Rashid because he was a traitor, that’s what you told me. But it was because he was working with the Templars, right? You found out about it, he told the cops what you did and they were going to arrest you, but you killed Rashid just before they did… But you were still put on death row, regardless. The jury was bought by the Templars to insure you were put to death before you said anything and revealed the secret war- the fucking judge was a Templar!” Malik took a breath and rubbed his forehead, grunting at his painful migraine. “You should have been honest from the start! You should have said you were an assassin!”

“Who has told you such things?!” Altair suddenly growled. “You need to get away from them, they are dangerous! Believe me Malik, please.”

“Safety and peace, Brother. It is me, Connor Kenway-”  
“Kenway?!” Altair yelped.  
“Connor Kenway. Haytham’s son, but that’s as far as he and I go. I am an assassin. You remember me, you should, anyway… I was your novice for a short time…” Connor explained and allowed the man to think deeply for a moment.

“The native American boy?” Altair muttered cautiously. “Connor… No, I remember you by another name.”

“Ratonhnhake:ton.” Connor announced.  
“Nope, hippy-boy, that was it.”

The man frowned and leant away from the phone, folding his arms. 

“Regardless.” Malik suddenly chimed in. “You didn’t tell me these things, things that are very important, Altair.” He groaned and rubbed at his head again, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Shit, this is too much.”

“You must rest, Malik.” Connor muttered and took the glass from the bedside table. “Drink some water and get to sleep. There’s no point in you having this entire burden on your shoulders when you can barely keep yourself upright.”

“Malik, are you alright? Connor, I trust you as a fellow brother to take good care of him. I don’t have to remind you of one of the creeds, do I?”

“Never harm an innocent, I know.” Connor replied, helping Malik drink his water. “I will do as much as I can. But at least now that Malik knows about Templars and Assassins, he’ll be more cautious about going off with unfamiliar people or sharing information or something equally as exposing.”

“This is true…” Altair sighed. “Sleep well, Malik. See you back in court whenever you’re strong enough.” He hesitated, before letting those words out, regardless of Connor being there or not. “I love you.”

Connor stilled.

“I love you too, Altair…” Malik choked a little on his water, before reaching over and ending the call. He glanced back at Connor, who still had the look of mild horror on his face.  
“You … and he…”

“No one can help who they fall in love with… Your existence alone is testament to that, Connor.” Malik smiled and pat the assassin on the leg. “I’ll be fine for now, you can take the guest room, it’s clean, you just need to unpack your things.”

Connor decided to go with the subject change and nodded, getting up from the bed.

“Just… shout if you need anything.” He whispered, before leaving the room to unpack his bags.

Malik watched him go, before slumping back on the bed and waiting for the door to close.

As he heard the door click shut, his hand fisted into his hair and he only just managed to stifle a whimper.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” He breathed.

***

Connor was a very fine carer. Every morning for the next week, he would find his breakfast ready on the bedside table, waiting for him for when he woke up. The man was as silent as a shadow, it seemed. Not once did he wake Malik whilst moving around the apartment, and the walls were hardly thick.

“Jesus… that man…” Malik smiled and sipped at his orange juice. He had been gradually getting better. It had been a slow process, but what did anyone expect? He’d had an epileptic fit, a serious one at that. Was there a time limit on recovery? Malik shook himself from his musings as a knock came to his door.

“Malik, are you awake?”

Malik stood and walked over to the door. He had regained most of his balance and his strength was returning just as fast. And it was just in time too, the trial was to start again in the next couple of days. He would need all the strength and reassurance he could get. He had to be strong both mentally and physically and not just for himself.  
He smiled when he set eyes on Connor.

“If it isn’t my hero, what do you need, Connor..?” He chuckled and pulled the door open. 

Connor watched as Malik turned away and returned to his desk, half naked and continued his work.

“I was preparing for a trip down south for the day. I will be passing the prison, if you wish to organise yourself to meet Altair.”

“Trip down south?” Malik blinked, swivelling his chair to face the man. “What are you up to..?”

Connor paused at the question. He honestly thought Malik would be too caught up in his excitement about seeing Altair again that to ask about his personal business.  
“Important business… Something Altair will understand but you should not.” Connor quickly replied, before sighing. “It would be less dangerous for you to not know.”

“Ah… super-hero business. I understand.”

The native man frowned irritably, but Malik just leaned forward and gave a pat to Connor’s belly.  
“Feed yourself before we go. You are so busy taking care of me that you forget about your own needs.” Malik rose from his chair and walked past with a slightly un-balanced limp. “You’re a big man, you require sustenance, I do not doubt that, so why refuse it? The fridge and cupboards are full, you don’t need my permission.”

Connor grumped as he followed Malik closely. “I am fine, I am taking care of myself- YOU are the one in need of care. It is why I am here. I thought you would be more excited about seeing Altair at least.”

“I am excited!” Malik snapped. He reached into the shower cubicle and turned on the water, pulling his arm free and closing the door before the cold water hit him. He turned to Connor and rested his hand on his hip. “Unless you wish to go blind, you would be wise to leave before I stripped naked for a shower.” 

Connor was obviously ignoring him as he continued to argue.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I mistook your sudden interest in my business as your excitement to go see Altair.” The man scoffed. Malik took the hint that Connor wasn’t going to leave without a fight, so just decided to make things far more uncomfortable than they already were… by stripping naked. He turned away, shoved his sweat-pants to the floor and slipped off his tight-fitting boxers.

“Alright, fine. I’m not really looking forward to seeing Altair, no. He’s been hiding very important information from me this entire time and I do not appreciate it one bit. And I don’t care if he did it to protect me- he should be protecting himself.” Malik turned to Connor, frowning and unashamedly baring his body to the man.

“He should have told me why he didn’t want saving and now he’ll either spend life in prison or be set free in a few years- and he doesn’t want to be an assassin again?! He should have told me these things!”

“This is why you must speak to him, Malik, please.” Connor suddenly interrupted as he approached the naked man. Malik flinched and looked up to him, chewing on his own lip nervously as Connor grasped him tight by the shoulders and gave a reassuring smile, rare on his face. 

“Before you start jumping to conclusions, you must get your facts straight. Surely you of all people understand that..?”

“I am frightened he will tell me to stop fighting now that I know what will happen if he is set free…” Malik whispered and lowered his gaze to the floor. “And if I deny him of what he really wants, he will grow to resent me… Jesus… He’s doing all of this because he thinks it is what I want, he isn’t thinking about himself!” 

“Calm yourself, friend.” Connor soothed the man, gently rubbing his fingers through his friend’s ebony hair. “You are thinking too deeply. You need to go visit him.” He pulled away from Malik and turned him towards the shower. “Now, stop boasting your body at me and start cleaning it. I’m sure Altair will appreciate a nice smell when he is surrounded by many others that are not so pleasant… And I’m sure the sight of you will do him more justice than it does me.” The man actually smirked.

Malik gave him a frown, before biting his lips inwards and blushing furiously. Thank God for dark skin, he thought. “You are a deceptive man.” Malik murmured as he started to make his way towards the shower cubicle.

Connor watched, trying to keep his eyes from trailing lower than what would have been appropriate for friends. He couldn’t deny Malik was a truly handsome man, with or without his left arm, but to walk in on Altair’s territory, the most ruthless of all the assassins, was just asking for it.

Connor briefly wondered if he could actually be ‘fucked’ to death by the man, but quickly pushed the thought aside when he realised Altair would find a way of making ‘fucking’ fatal if he was to touch his property. 

He chewed on his cheek, contemplating if it was worth the risks. It would be easy to keep Malik quiet. Malik didn’t want Altair hating him. He was a sensitive guy under all of those certificates, doctorates and PHD’s after all. He wouldn’t threaten their relationship by telling Altair he’d fucked Connor.

“And you won’t threaten their relationship, either.” Connor quickly growled to himself in his native tongue.

“Connor?” Malik called and stuck his head around the frosted shower cubicle door. “C-Connor, why are you still standing there..?”

“I … was making sure you didn’t fall in the shower… again.” He quickly replied, it was half true, so it didn’t sound as obvious as his lying usually did.

“Oh.” Malik had forgotten about that. When he had gotten out of bed the morning after Connor had arrived, he had attempted a shower and slipped due to his almost non-existent sense of balance. He had finished showering seated on the floor, dragged himself from the cubicle and dried himself, still on the floor. He had sat there for an hour before forcing himself to ask for Connor’s help back to bed.

Connor had almost lost his default-setting of ‘calm’ at the state Malik was in. Malik must have knocked his old-fashioned razor from the counter trying to stand up, but had fallen down onto it instead, slicing his knee open, and Connor had almost flipped. Malik had never seen Connor so anxious.

“Still determined to watch me shower.” Malik chuckled and pushed the door shut again. Connor could see Malik’s movements through the frosted glass, but he wished he could see everything more clearly. He slipped into his eagle vision and saw Malik through the glass with such vivid detail he could easily count the scars that adorned his amputation stump from where he stood.  
“It is for your own good.” Connor replied and took a seat on the edge of the bath. “I can ask Miss. Humphrey next door to come watch you instead, if I make you so uncomfortable..?”  
Malik gave a loud laugh from under the shower and scrubbed his fingers into his hair to make sure all the soap was free of his scalp. “The woman is 75 years old. She’ll grab the sponge and scrub every part of my body red raw with it.” He chuckled and opened the door fully to Connor, giving him a sly look. “But she’s single, if you’re interested…” He utterly purred.

“You are disgusting.” Connor coughed, struggling to swallow his own saliva at the sight of Malik … so… naked and wet. Connor was pretty certain he could write a novel about the feelings shooting through him right now. Something rated ‘explicit’.

Malik simply shrugged and turned off the shower, stepping out of it and taking a towel from the rack. “Some women really enjoy a toy-boy. You’re perfect material for them to sink their cougar claws into.” 

“Malik…” The man grumbled, before standing and approaching Malik. He took the towel from his hands and pressed it around his shoulders, before working his thumbs over the soft material hard enough that they were kneading against the muscles underneath. 

The darker male immediately stilled and let out a low moan. 

“Hnn… Jesus, Connor.” He whispered, rolling his head back a little at the massage stretching across his shoulders and down his back. Connor pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and worried it there, seething and ready to push his luck as his hands trailed lower still. 

“Connor~” Malik whimpered, placing his hand against the wall and leaning on it as the man behind him continued his ministrations. Connor worked his thumbs into the small of the man’s back, watching with half-lidded wonder as the body under him squirmed and arched into his touch. 

“C-Connor, stop this.” Malik breathed, feeling a hand trail round to the front and touch him in a sensitive spot. “Connor!” He cried, turning swiftly and grabbing the man’s wrist. “… I thought you were straight…” He swallowed deeply, wishing he still had the towel to cover his slight ‘rousing’ below his waist. 

“I am. But I can appreciate any type of body, be it a woman or man.”

Malik stared, taking a deep breath when Connor moved closer again. “I think… that’s called ‘bisexual’.” His voice shuddered as Connor pressed his hands either side of him, leaning in slow. 

“Then that must be what I am, if you so choose to give me a label.” Malik squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the breath of Connor’s words against his lips before they were being kissed and played with by another’s. He placed his hand against Connor’s chest and gave a few gentle strokes to the muscle hidden underneath the shirts, before he was pushing the man away. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t- I really can’t.” Malik swallowed the taste on his tongue, before he left the bathroom and Connor in it. 

***

The ride to the prison wasn’t as awkward as he thought it would be. Connor kept his hands on the wheel of his pick-up and didn’t once try to stray a hand into Malik’s lap. He wasn’t sure he would have fought him off if he had tried. Connor wasn’t a forceful man when it came to love or friendship, hence why he had no lover or many friends. They were either best friends for life or nothing. Lover, or nothing, and luckily, Malik was still in the ‘best friend’ category as Connor spoke comfortably about his native lands, what they were doing, the animals they were conserving and the others they hunted.

The trip took about two hours by car and it was lunchtime by the time they made it there.

“Take care on your mission, Connor.” Malik sighed and pat the man on the leg. “Return safely. I will catch a train home tonight. So, don’t worry about picking me up. Just worry about you. OK?”  
“That makes things far less complicated, thank you, Malik.” Connor paused, before sighing and shrugging anxiously. “I… apologise for making a move on you… I should not have done that.”

“I won’t tell Altair, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” Malik chuckled as he leaned over and gave the man a kiss to his partially shaved head. “I’ll always be the gay best friend you kissed. No harm in experimenting. Hell, I wouldn’t be gay if I hadn’t at least tried it with a girl.” Malik grinned and hopped out of the pick-up, dragging his bag along with him.  
“Yeah… I guess.” Connor gave a soft chuckle, before he placed his hands back on the wheel and started to seemingly sulk.

“Call me when you get home.” Malik demanded.  
“Alright, but don’t call me. I don’t need distractions.” Connor replied. He smiled, then waited for Malik to close the door before pulling away.  
Malik watched Connor driving back down the long road leading to the prison, then slowly turned and walked up the rest of the way himself, feeling the eyes of guards’ boaring into him from every angle. 

***

“Malik!” Altair almost choked as he hurried to the man and embraced him tightly, burying his face into the man’s neck and taking a deep inhale of his scent. Malik flushed, feeling how he was immediately pressed back against the prison cell door and kissed until he had no breath left within his lungs.

“Good… to see… you too…” Malik gasped as he leant his head back against the heavy door. “We need to talk…”

“I’m so happy to see you, Malik, I don’t think you’ll ever understand- ever.” Altair whispered, grasping Malik by the face and pressing their foreheads together in an intimate display of trust and love. Malik swallowed heavily, giving a quick nod as he gazed into those eagle eyes which appeared to be piercing into his soul.

“We need to talk, Altair.” Malik repeated himself, pushing slightly against the man’s chest. The convict was reluctant, but finally stepped away, giving Malik the room to breathe.  
“Tell me you want to be saved. Tell me you want to leave this horrible place. Tell me you don’t want to die.” Malik whispered. “But do not lie to me, Altair.”

Altair stared for a while, before turning his face away and pulling his lips between his teeth. 

Malik felt his stomach drop into his shoes, then even further into the bowels of the earth. 

“If you did not want to be saved, then why do you waste my fucking time!?” Malik screamed suddenly and shoved the man hard in the chest. Altair staggered back and fell against his shoulders on the wall behind him. He squinted as Malik towered over him.

“Is this another game to you?! Are you playing with me?! You lied to me this entire time! You lead me to believe you were just some lunatic nut-job who had killed innocent people freely because some ‘Master’ of yours told you to!” Malik seethed. “You didn’t tell me about the fucking secret war you have been in, that called for the deaths of these people- you’re in here because this is how an assassin is relieved of his or her duties- you’re in here to die!”  
“Malik-” Altair breathed, staring up at the man from the floor as Malik continued to lose the plot and shout.

“No! You do not call me that! I am Doctor Al-Sayf, I am nothing to you! If you want to die so badly and fucking destroy me, then go right ahead and do it!” Malik choked and began to cry, but he tried to quell it by rubbing his forehead hard. “How dare you string me along this whole time..? Am I simply entertainment to you? God, what have I done? Why did I listen to you? Why did I let you manipulate me? You’ve been tricking me, making me your bitch this whole time, and you know what?! It ends here! No more! If you want to sacrifice yourself to this stupid secret war bullshit, then go right ahead. I’ll drop out of the trial, tell them everything you told me was a lie, which it probably was, and you’ll get what you always wanted. You can die on Christmas Eve. See if I give a shit.” Malik sobbed and turned to the door.  
Altair slammed his hands either side of Malik against the door, the reverberating bang echoing around the cell for a blood-chilling moment. Malik felt his sobs catching in his throat as his heart hammered in his chest. He should have kept his mouth shut, minded his own business, shown Altair the respect he believed he was entitled to…

God, he was going to kill him.

“You asked me to live for you…” A soft whisper brushed against the back of his neck. “And I decided I wanted that more than I wanted to die… I care not for what lies ahead… whether I am put in prison for life, I will still see you… Whether I am set free, I can be with you… I will be an assassin again, but I will have you…” Altair pressed his mouth tenderly to Malik’s neck, just over his jugular and felt the man’s heart rate slow beneath his lips.

“I love you, Doctor Al-Sayf…” Altair whimpered and dug his fingers into the door, his arms shaking mildly. “I love you so fucking much, I never meant to hurt you…”

Malik listened and felt as Altair pressed his forehead against the base of his skull and let out a few shuddering breaths as he did the manly thing and actually controlled his crying.

“Jesus, please don’t leave me, Malik.” Altair breathed. His fingers found their way around Malik’s waist, reaching and clinging into his clothes for dear life. “I’m sorry… I was so worried you wouldn’t be honest with me that I was dishonest myself. I beg you to forgive me…” He shuddered. Malik leaned slightly forward, resting his forehead against the cold steel of the door as he reached over his shoulder with his one hand and stroked down the back of Altair’s neck. He did it a few times, before turning in Altair’s grasp and facing him fully. 

“I wish I could just hide you in my pocket and take you home.” He chuckled, working his fingers into the soft sandy-coloured hair. Altair closed his eyes with a smile, leaning into the touch like an attention starved cat.  
“I think those jeans are so tight you’d struggle getting your phone in the pockets, let alone me.” He purred, nuzzling into Malik’s neck the second his hand slipped free of his hair. 

“They take my phone away at security anyway.” Malik pouted, before sighing and patting Altair on the chest. “I’m still angry with you, Altair.” He grumbled. “Thanks to your fuck upon the phone, Connor now knows about us.”

“He won’t expose us. He’s an assassin. To expose us is against the creed. To expose us is to expose you, and that is harming an innocent, another law of the creed broken.” Altair whispered, leaning fully against Malik and the door as he brushed his lips against Malik’s. “And I wish to never do the same.”

“Jesus Altair~”  
“I would never harm an innocent… No… never…” Malik watched Altair slowly slide down onto his knees, his hands resting against his thighs. “In fact… If they were all like you… I would get down on my knees… and pleasure them anyway they wanted.”

“Fuck~” Malik shuddered, his head landing back against the door with a resonating ‘thud’ as Altair started giving attention to Malik through the fabric of his jeans. “You better not do this to anyone else, convict.” He seethed through grit teeth. “Your beautiful, scarred mouth is mine alone.”

Altair chuckled and slid his hands upwards, his fingers getting to work as his eyes remained in contact with Malik’s. “How did you think I paid for that phone, Malik?”

“Lube and cigarettes. You told me so.”

“True, but I had to pay for the silence of the dealer as well.” Altair smirked and snaked his tongue out for a second across his lips. “The dealer is a guard, goes by the name of “Crane.” She pretty much owns Death Row.” 

“Sh-She..?” Malik shuddered at the thought of Altair giving pleasure to a woman, especially to a woman like Crane. He’d met her a few times and decided that she was, A = a force to be reckoned with, B= pretty damn cool and C = someone he liked and knew could be trusted. She was a busty, hot-as-hell, hard-core guard, the only woman in the prison and she knew how to keep men like those in Death row in line.

When Malik saw her, the first thing he would do was seriously question his sexuality, but then he would remember she could probably burst his balls like grapes in her fingers if he attempted a move on her. Then Altair would be pretty pissed too.

“She’s an Assassin also. This is her cover job. She works in this prison so Assassins don’t suffer unnecessarily during their ‘retirement’ years. She also gets the best information from both convicts and guards. She’s even on the Warden’s good side.” Altair sat back on his haunches, noticing Malik’s need for information more than his want for a blowjob right then.

Malik nodded, gesturing for Altair to keep talking. 

“Crane knows about you and I, has done since she saw the CCTV of us fucking in the cell.”

“They have CCTV?!” Malik snapped, his eyes quickly scanning the ceiling for any cameras he had missed in the dank darkness.

“SHE has CCTV, not the prison. She’s a technical whizz, so she’s got a camera in every cell of an assassin in this prison, which would only be me. It films constantly, and every night, she goes home and watches what happens, usually in fast forward.” A sly smirk made its way across Altair’s face and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Malik’s shaft, before pulling away.

“She really likes how you made me fuck myself with my fingers a few weeks back.” He purred.

“You are one sick puppy.” Malik moaned, his fingers gripping into Altair’s hair. “I hope she enjoyed having your tongue working on her folds because it’ll be the last time she gets it.” He huffed.

Altair laughed, and shrugged innocently. “Do not be jealous, Malik. You are far more my type.” He whispered and leaned forward, lips parting.

Malik could vaguely remember arching his back and opening his mouth in a silent scream at the pleasure, but not much else.

 

***

Connor barely contained a smirk when he laid eyes on Malik. He’d just returned from his assignment down south and had just finished putting his assassin things away when he’d noticed Malik on the couch, television on, but whatever was on it wasn’t the cause of Malik’s oddly sated smile. 

Unless Malik really liked infomercials…

“Hey Connor…” Malik was greeting him before he could stop thinking about his own mental amusement. Malik getting his rocks off to infomercials was an image that would entertain him for days for being both funny and hot. 

“Judging by the smile on your face, you and Altair had a good talk about everything, right?” Connor muttered as he moved over and sat at the end of the couch. Malik simply grinned and stretched out across the sofa. “You’re not going to tell me what happened..?”

“We had an argument.” Malik replied as he sat up and sat back against his end of the couch. “A pretty serious argument actually, we almost split up, but… He said he only wants to live for me, and if he has to live in prison for the rest of his natural life, or return to being an assassin – depending on the trial – then he said he is happy to do it if I am by his side.” Malik looked up to Connor, before grabbing his arm and dragging him down so Connor laid across him, head resting against his stomach. 

Connor blinked a few times, before relaxing his body against Malik and settling down comfortably. Malik did this sometimes. He would reassure himself by comforting others, it was his safety blanket. Connor didn’t need comforting, but if it gave Malik something to do as he spoke, then he would allow it. 

“He truly cares for you, Malik.” He whispered, staring off towards the television and watching the muted infomercial playing out on the screen. “This is what he wants, and what you want also, rolled into one solution… You can finally stop worrying.” 

“Hm, maybe when the trial is over. Maybe…” 

“Depending on the outcome, I suppose.” Connor muttered and closed his eyes at the sensation of Malik running his fingers over the line of tied-back hair left on his scalp.

“You need to shave the sides again.” Malik whispered, trying to not think about the outcome of the trial just yet. Connor smiled, taking Malik’s hint and turning his face up to the man. 

“I was thinking about growing it again. The Assassin mentor has very fine hair, tied back with a red ribbon. I find it a good look, but I think I might tie it with beads and a feather instead. I do not wish to be called a copy-cat…”

“Why not grow it long enough to tie back, but only tie back the top part of your hair? Like you have done already?” Malik mused as he freed a few locks of hair and began to braid them. “Then do this… Put a couple of beads there to hold it together and… yeah. Looks hot…” Malik grinned and leaned back. “Hurry up and grow it.” He huffed playfully.

“It grows quickly. I only shaved my head a few days ago.” Connor moaned as he stretched and slumped back into position like a big lazy bear. Malik smirked inwardly at the description and shrugged, leaning back into a comfortable position. 

“Good…”

“So, you and Altair…” Connor trialled off, turning his head back towards the television as he played with the new braid between his fingers. “You two…”

“What is it..?”

“I noticed the grin on your face when I came in. Did you two make up and make out?” 

“Connor!” Malik yelped, giving the native a playful shove on his head. “Jesus, you’re not shy, are you?”

“Most definitely not. So, did you?”

“We may have done, not that it’s your business anyway. But seeing you’re asking personal business, may I ask, how faired your mission?”

Connor’s smile was wiped from his face immediately and settled into that “professional” mode he adapted around strangers. Malik watched as the man shifted uncomfortably.

“The target is dead, if that’s what you mean..? When a man has to die, I do not call that mission a success.”

“But it’s what you’re assigned to do, correct?” Malik blinked.

“Yes. But I only wish there were less drastic answers to such things.” Connor whispered, before shrugging and sitting up. “Mn… get some rest, you have court in the morning and I don’t intend to have to drag you out of bed for it.”  
“Aw. But waking up to your grumpy scowl is the best thing in the morning…”

“You mean this one..?” Connor made a disgruntled face and pointed at himself. He loomed over Malik playfully, his face getting closer and closer.

Malik let out a gasp and swallowed.

“And just what was that..?” Connor murmured as he realigned his default expression. 

“You have no idea what that face does to me…” Malik breathed, reaching up and cupping one side of Connor’s face. “The way your brow wrinkles and your frown lines deepen… It makes me all lusty and hungry and my thighs all hot, pink and sweaty…”

Connor only had the time to wince in confusion before Malik was laughing and shoving him off the sofa with a ‘thump’.

***

The last day of the trial. Judgement day. The jury were in deliberation and had been for most of the day. Malik leant back in his chair, nursing his cup of coffee slowly, even though it had long gone cold. It had been almost a full three months since meeting Altair for the first time. Three months wasn’t a long time at all to get so deep in love with someone, Malik knew that, but time didn’t really have any set-rules when it came to falling arse-over-tits in love. 

Taking another sip of what must have been a Frappuccino by now, he trained his eyes back onto the crack in the floor he had been staring at for hours. Altair had been in a mess today. He stared blankly, worrying his lip until it bled and couldn’t keep still. It was so unlike him, he was usually a cucumber of a man when sitting in front of all those people. Maybe it had suddenly hit home that it was really happening, that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare and there was a serious threat that he could be put to death. 

His execution date was still for December 24th, a week from now. The only respite was that if the jury took longer than the execution date to provide a verdict, then the execution date would be postponed for some time in the future. 

But what if they re-applied the death penalty? He had 10 of them after all. Any one of them could be applied to the new verdict if he was found guilty. And if they came back with a “not-guilty for reason of insanity”, then he would be locked up in an asylum for the rest of his days- Jesus, Malik didn’t even want to think about that one. 

He worked his lime-green tie free from his top buttons and popped them open once his hand was free. He’d never been so nervous in his life. He had his epilepsy pills and spray in his pocket just in case the pressure got too much, but he didn’t sense a fit coming like he had previously, so that was lucky. 

Malik could still hear Altair’s voice from last night. Shaking and breathless from previous activities, Malik had heard movement from the other end of the line, before a single statement was whispered down the phone.

“I’m so scared…” 

Malik had swallowed hard, tightened his grip on the phone and longed to hold Altair just as tight.

“So am I…” Malik had finally replied, before closing his eyes tightly. “But, I promise you, I will be there beside you, no matter what…”

The words had soothed Altair somewhat and his voice came through calmer the next time he spoke. 

“Take your medication tomorrow, OK? Like, in your pocket, to the court. And your spray. And eat breakfast, you don’t know how long you will be at the court…”

Malik smiled at the demands. He’d never felt so protected in his life by a man who literally could do nothing but talk like a mother would to him. He felt better for it, regardless.

Remembering those words made Malik smile softly, his eyes observing the patterns in the marble flooring. His coffee was cold, his arse hurt from the prolonged sitting – and from doing certain activities with certain things for a certain someone the previous night – and his heart hammered away in his chest… but with Altair’s words in his head, he felt reassured. 

The chair beside him creaked as someone sat in it, but he gave them no attention. It was only when his coffee was being pulled from his hand that he was shaken from his musings.

“Relax.” A thickly accented voice chuckled as a warm cup was placed back in his hand. Malik stared at it. The cup was polystyrene, with a cardboard ring around it to stop from burning his hand on the cup. It had a logo on it, so it was bought in from the coffee shop across the road from the courthouse. And it was still boiling hot, this he found out as he took a sip. 

“Thank you.” Malik whispered as he leaned back in his chair and turned his attention to the man beside him.

He almost dropped the bloody coffee when he laid eyes on him.

“Jesus…” He breathed.

“We may both have beards, but I’m afraid Jesus was not Italian.” The man chuckled heartedly. “It is good to see you again, Malik.”

“You remember my name…” It was not a question.

“Of course I do. You think I would forget the name of the man who first enticed me into the realm of man?” 

“I wish I could remember yours, but you never gave it to me.” Malik whispered, still shocked and still convinced he was about to spill his coffee everywhere he was shaking so hard.

“Ezio. Ezio Auditore da Firenze.” The Italian smiled, holding his hand out to Malik. “You are looking well, Doctor Al-Sayf.”

“Really?” Malik rose an eyebrow and took Ezio’s hand. He watched as Ezio brought the hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. He felt the beard bristle against his fingertips as he withdrew his hand, swallowing hard through his fierce blush. “I’m missing a fucking arm, and you think that’s “looking well”..?” 

“I had noticed that. But I assumed it was a sore subject. Considering I am the one to blame for you losing it, I thought you would find it unconceivable for me to mention it.” Ezio shrugged and gestured to the lack of arm. “But the men who did it are dead now and have been for many years.”

Malik stared at Ezio hard for a good few minutes, before he lowered his voice and leaned closer. 

“Why are you here, Ezio..?” He paused. “I know you did not travel all the way from Italy to just buy me a coffee, kiss my knuckles and then leave…”

“That obvious, si..?” Ezio huffed, before replacing that trademark Italian playfulness with a seriousness that only Altair could rival and sitting up straight. “I am here for the outcome of the trial, truth be told.”

Malik took a moment to observe the Italian. He watched over his expression, his gaze sinking to the scar cutting through his beard and lips, before the man’s hair caught his attention.

Connor’s words suddenly echoed in his head;  
“I was thinking about growing it again. The Assassin mentor has very fine hair, tied back with a red ribbon. I find it a good look, but I think I might tie it with beads and a feather instead. I do not wish to be called a copy-cat…”  
“You’re the fucking Assassin Mentor, aren’t you..?” Malik almost swooned, but took another sip of his coffee instead. 

“No, I’m just the ‘Assassin Mentor’, there’s no ‘fucking’ involved.” Ezio paused. “Most of the time, anyway.”

“Oh Jesus Christ… small world.” Malik whispered as he lowered his head and rested it against the back of his hand, the steam from his coffee rolling up into his face. “The last time I saw you, you were shirtless, I was shirtless and you had your hands in my trousers.” Malik laughed quietly to himself.

“Funny.” Ezio sighed. “Last I saw you, you were in a hospital bed on life-support. It was just before I went and killed all of the men involved in the beating that resulted in the loss of your arm and the damage to your brain... I apologise, I realise only now that one of those men was your father.” Ezio waved a hand nonchalantly. “Regardless. You have done well without him.”

Malik stared at the marble floor again, soaking in the information before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I suppose I have…” He glanced over, taking in Ezio’s attire. 

The man wore a dark grey suit, a red and orange striped tie that seemed to be the patterns of a crest. His family crest, maybe? Or maybe it was something with Italian football, he didn’t know. His shoes, he noticed, had grips on the bottoms. They were fine shoes, probably- no- definitely Italian, brown leather, perfect with a suit… but the grips on the bottom of the sole made them easier to run in, or well, do anything in.

“Why haven’t you and your men broken Altair out of prison..?” Malik finally sighed.

“He refused my help.” Ezio shook his head. “He probably doesn’t trust me seeing as I am the Mentor he never met, and the last one took him as a fool.” 

“Wait… he refused..?” Malik blinked.

“Yes. We have a contact in the prison. She can give letters from me to him. He probably has 20 by now, begging him to let us help him escape. But he replied once, saying he didn’t require assistance, and then never replied again. We supposed he had his own plan of breaking out. Pity it has taken him so long to put it in motion…”

Malik stared blankly ahead of himself for a long time.

Was he just “part of Altair’s plan”..? Had Altair seduced him in efforts of keeping him on board? Had all his words been honeyed so that Malik wouldn’t give up on him? Had he been used this whole time for Altair to get free? No. 

No.

No fucking way.

“He denied your requests for assistance because he was happier being put to death than working as an assassin again.” Malik growled eventually, clenching his coffee tight enough to bend the cup.

Ezio blinked and turned his attention towards the Syrian. “How do you know this?” He asked.  
“I am the criminal psychologist, I ask him questions. He answers.” Malik turned his face towards Ezio, fixing him with a determined gaze. “And no, he didn’t tell me freely about the secret war, I had to force it out of another assassin. Hell, I didn’t even know they were an assassin either!” Malik chuckled, before continuing. “Altair wasn’t being prideful or arrogant by refusing your help, he was being suicidal- and you and your brothers should have recognised that. You should have busted him out regardless of his decision, it would have made all of this a damn sight easier for people like me!”

Ezio gave a swift scan around the area to check if anyone was listening, before shooting a glare at Malik. “And have done what, Malik? Abducted the man back into the Assassin’s order? He can make his own decisions and if his was to rot in prison, then that was something I had to respect.”

“I’ve managed to change his mind, and I’m just a criminal psychologist!” Malik snapped.

Ezio suddenly changed back into the playful Italian as he turned his attention to Malik again. He chuckled and gave Malik a pat on the leg. “I have seen the footage from the prison, amico mio. I would like to see the part of your job description that says you must examine your patients so… physically as you have done.” 

Malik had the decency to blush madly and drink his coffee.

“I know what you two are to each other, I know how strong the bond is, and I will not laugh or joke about it.” Ezio sighed. “Your methods may have worked where ours have not, so we cannot intervene now. You must see this to the end. And if he is sent back to death row, then we will bust him out, is that a deal?” Ezio held out his hand again.

“Yes.” Malik agreed and pushed his hand into Ezio’s, giving a short shake before pulling away.

There was silence for a moment until the soft patter of footsteps approached. 

“Amore mio, how is he fairing..?” A soft voice asked. 

Malik shot his head up and saw the pathologist lean down to Ezio and give a soft kiss to the man’s full lips.

“Molto bene.” Ezio replied, smiling up to the blonde with a fondness he had only seen once before, from Altair, when he looked at him… 

Malik’s heart ached to be with Altair, it hurt so much. So fucking much…

“Ah, bene – bene.” The pathologist muttered and settled on the chair beside Ezio. “I feel it will be a long wait for the verdict, though.” He sighed. 

Ezio nodded, looking over the pathologist before turning his attention back to Malik.

“We must try doing this the legal way. When you first started working with Altair, you had no clue about this secret war business. You picked up his case because you are a kind man who just wants to help others understand what’s going on in their own heads.” Ezio paused, shaking Malik’s shoulder gently. 

“The victim’s family who hired you… They were Assassins. You think you walked into this voluntarily, but I am sorry. You did not. We planned this all from the start. You see, we have been watching you for a long time, since that day you and I… met in Jerusalem… I felt I owed you protection for the pain I caused you. We Assassins have been protecting you for years on end, and though you did not know of it, we simply ask you to free our finest assassin in return…”

“You made this all happen…” Malik whispered.

“Yes. We did not intend for you and Altair to become so… intimate… We were relying on your expertise more than anything. But we cannot argue with the results of your interesting methods.” Ezio smiled and leant back in his seat. “Despite that, you have done an excellent job.”

“So… when Altair refused to let you bust him out of prison the old-fashioned way... You decided to drag me in to all of this bullshit to get him out for you…” Malik hissed, and placed his coffee by his feet to rub his face in his hand. “And for all of these years, you have been watching me, protecting me from fucking nothing and manipulated me into taking up this case…”

“Nothing? Oh Malik… You haven’t been told, have you?” The large Italian male shook his head, before sighing and resting his head back on the wood panelled wall behind him. “Your family, they were Assassins. They were part of the brotherhood located in Jerusalem who branched out to the whole of the Holy Land. Your father was trying to protect you from your lineage. When he saw you with me, he wished to kill you to stop you from finding out about your lineage… But… he told the men of your village that he caught you with another man so they would not know either. They blindly followed your father into believing they were killing you because you were gay.”

“No…” Malik breathed.

“I am sorry. You Father recognised me straight away as one of the Order. He thought I was there to tell you about it. Truth was, I didn’t know who you were until I found your name on your hospital chart when you were in intensive care. Only then did I realise you were from a family of Assassins…” Ezio let out a heavy sigh and hunkered down to rest his elbows against his knees. “Your father was a deserter, so he had to be killed.”

There was a heavy silence as Malik rubbed fiercely at his head, like all the new information was pounding against his skull and would burst through his cranium in a bloodied mess at any second.

“Your brother found out about his lineage and approached us. We helped him find you in America, but we had already decided we had other plans for you. We asked your brother to say he was fighting for his country, in that meaningless war in the Middle East, so that you wouldn’t be mixed up in all this mess too soon. You had to finish your studies, do the best you could and without all the Assassin and Templar stuff in your head, you did very well indeed…”

“Kadar was a…” Malik trailed off with a whimper.

“Yes… He was an assassin, like Altair, like Connor, like me… He loved every second of it. He had a passion for the Order we hadn’t seen in anyone for years. But he was kind-hearted… And he paid the price because of it. He was attempting to aid a citizen who had been shot in the belly, but it was an ambush. He was killed by the Templars.”

“No. He was killed in a car-bomb in Taliban territory.”

“That he was…” Ezio murmured. “The Americans and the Taliban may have a war going on in the Holy Land, but so do we and the Templars. It is easier to fight a war when another is there. It’s easier to cover it up.”

“Shit.” Malik choked and ran his hand over his eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ, Kadar…” He shuddered.

“Kadar’s death was beyond our control, I apologise deeply and sincerely.” Ezio whispered and carefully took Malik’s arm. He shot a glance at the pathologist.

“Leonardo, help me take him to a room so we may let him calm down.”

“Of course.” Leonardo replied and ran his arm around Malik’s waist as Ezio lifted the man from his chair. They walked for a while, until making it to the Defence’s private discussion room. The Defence lawyer was already seated inside, going through what looked to be Malik’s notes again, his glasses propped on the end of his nose. 

As the door opened, he pushed his glasses up and observed the three men. His eyebrows rose at the state of the criminal psychologist between them. 

“Bloody hell, you’ve told him then.” Hastings muttered, kicking the seats out from the table so they could sit down.

“He knows?!” Malik snapped as he slumped into one of the comfy, high-backed chairs.

“He is also an Assassin.” Ezio grinned sheepishly.

“Who isn’t a fucking Assassin?!”

“Keep your voice down, Christ.” Shaun grumped, leaning over the desk. “Just to warn you, pretty much everyone in the court’s gallery is an Assassin. Only the Judge, the Jury and the Prosecuting team are not Assassins.”

“S… so you..?” Malik looked over to Leonardo, who simply shrugged and waved his hand.

“I am more pathologist than Assassin nowadays, my body is getting older and I’d rather be able to slip into my profession quietly than be sent to prison by the Templars or be killed in action.” Leonardo confessed, shifting in his seat to get comfortable.

“So what, everyone I have run into has been an Assassin. Altair, you, Ezio, Shaun, the Bailiff, the guard in the prison; Crane, my brother, my father, my best friend; Connor…” Malik let out a shaky breath and reached into his pocket to reassure himself his Epilepsy spray was still there. “So my life has all been a fairy tale happy land, and now someone’s ripped off Santa’s beard, revealed the disgusting truth and it’s all going to shit…”

“Cheer up, Mate.” Shaun sighed. “I know it’s a lot to take in all at once, but shit, if anyone’s able to do it, it’s you. You’ve got the super-computer brain after all.”

“Does Altair know everything you’ve just told me, Ezio..?” Malik growled, turning his attention to the Assassin Mentor. 

“No.” Ezio replied swiftly. “If he knew you were from Assassin origins, then he would not have accepted your help. He’s been on bad-terms with the Order since killing the Master, but now that we’ve discovered the true extent of Rashid’s betrayal, we’ve come to owe Altair a lot. He stopped the man from completely destroying the Assassin Order, and for that, we must do whatever we can to get the man free.”

“But you won’t bust him out of prison if he refuses to let you?” Malik growled.

“We can’t risk that he won’t expose us during the break-out.” Ezio sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “You’re not going to let us live that down, are you?”

“Positively not.” 

“Anyway!” Shaun suddenly chirped in. “Can we please put down the handbags, ladies, and start some real discussion? In the case of either Altair being set free, or us having to break him free, we must decide where we are to take him.”

“Take him?” Malik whispered almost to himself.

“Well, he can hardly stay here. The Templars will be hunting him down like hounds on a fox.” Shaun muttered, before reclining in his seat. “He’ll have to go elsewhere.”

“You… you can’t just take Altair…”

“Do not worry, amico.” Leonardo smiled, taking Malik’s hand tightly. “You will be coming with us. We cannot leave you here for the Templars either.”

“So we will be on the run?” Malik whimpered, thumping his head back on the chair and groaning. “I will have to leave everything behind and join the Assassin’s Order as their criminal psychologist... I’ll be expected to live in a cult, give up all my possessions, shave my head and call you-” He gestured at Ezio. “’Master’, am I right..? And then, we’ll all sit in a happy circle of Assassins and hold hands and pray to some taboo God, hoping they take us into a higher life when the Apocalypse comes.”

“It’s nothing as extreme as that. I assure you.” Ezio sounded, and looked, offended. He glared hard at Malik for a moment, before heaving a sigh and shaking his head. “Fine, do not come with us.” He turned back to Shaun. “We will go to New York. It’s a busy enough city to get lost in, and our brotherhood there is vast, but not well known to the Templars.”

“Oh brilliant. Take him from one hell hole of depravity to another, great idea.” Shaun immediately argued.

“We have a few safe houses set up there disguised as artist studios. It is a cover for our Assassins.” Ezio growled, giving Shaun a warning look, before getting up and pacing over to the window, arms folded. “We’re fully aware of your drawing capabilities, Malik, even if you are not. Altair is also quite a good artist, so simply draw what you are asked to, and you’ll keep up the cover.”

“Don’t you think we’re planning a bit ahead of ourselves? Altair could still be put to death, depending on what the jury decides.” Malik hissed. “You forget we’re still fighting for Altair’s life.”

“Whatever they decide on, it’s up to you to convince him leaving is the best option.” Leonardo chipped in, giving Malik’s hand a reassuring squeeze before he let go. “Do this for Altair’s freedom, not because we told you to.”

“It would seem I have no choice in the matter.” 

 

*** 

Altair swore he felt the bile rush up to the back of his throat before he was being seated in the accused box again. He clenched his chained hands tightly together and tried to control his shaking. He’d never felt such fear before. Even staring down the barrel of a gun had nothing on this. He took a hard swallow, glancing over to Malik and the defence table. The nausea went away as Malik’s eyes made contact with his and he almost put his hands to the glass in an attempt to get close to the man. 

Altair never had paid attention to those old sayings women used to blab on about, but for the first time, he could relate to at least one… Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Or in his case, Altair mused, it made his heart go bat-shit insane whenever he saw the man. 

Malik gave him a soft smile before turning his attention back to whatever it was Shaun was talking about. That man was always stressing on about something, and Altair had noticed throughout the trial that usually Malik was either ignoring him to keep himself calm, or hissing something back that would keep the man quiet for a few minutes. 

The court suddenly went silent as the judge appeared. The whole court stood, and not for the first time, Altair did the same, his chains rattling with the simple movement. 

“Has the jury come to a decision on whether the accused is guilty or not guilty..?” The judge called towards the two-way mirror the anonymous jury was behind. 

“Yes.” Came the response. 

“And what were your findings..?”

“We, the jury, find the defendant guilty of the charges brought against him.”

A sudden small chorus of cheers came from the families of the victims at the verdict, followed by a wave of hushed but excited chattering that echoed around the court. 

Altair felt his stomach split open and gush its contents across his organs, burning away everything that kept him alive up until that point. As he looked over to Malik again, he could see the mirror image of his own devastation reflected upon the man’s face.

“But…”

All whispers immediately ceased as attention was brought back to the two-way mirror.  
“In light of the circumstances surrounding the killings, we have come to see the defendant was not in his right mind at the time of the murders. He was being manipulated by what he thought was a larger force, making him not solely responsible for his actions. He was lead to believe these men were bad, and that they needed to die, and the man who ordered these killings managed to provide the defendant with enough evidence to justify that, whether it be true evidence, or false. Because of this, we urge leniency on his punishment, your honour.”

The judge was faster to absorb the information than anyone else in the court. He realised then that though the verdict had been provided, it was up to him and him entirely whether Altair should still be put to death. 

“This… has been probably the most dramatic and heart wrenching trial I have ever resided over. To hear what the victims were put through at the time of death is something truly horrific. Now that the verdict has been announced, I can reflect on my feelings as well as the facts of the case.”

Altair rose his head from where it had slumped in defeat, giving the judge a look from under his brows as he resisted the urge to choke himself with his own chains.

“I…will not be able to sleep at night for a long time because of what I have seen and heard throughout this trial, as is probably the case with many of you, ladies and gentlemen of the court. But the jury are correct. Altair Ibn-La’Ahad is not fully to blame for what happened to those men, he was simply a pawn in his “Master’s” game. We know now that the Master cannot speak about it, since Altair killed him himself to be free of his cruel ways. And we also know that was the last time he killed.” The Judge continued.

Malik looked up from his hand and fixed the judge with the same desperate look Altair was giving. He could feel his insides reject one another and his stomach threatened to spill everything it contained. His despair was so strong, his fear shook him from head to toe and he could feel almost every Assassin in the room watching him, like if what the Judge decided wasn’t good enough, then he would be filled with bullets the second he left the court.

“With everything in consideration, I have decided that the defendant should be given 7 years, but be released as time served.” 

A roar of disgust erupted from the families as the rest of the court almost screamed in relief. 

“Remove the chains from the prisoner and provide him with civilian clothes.” Was the final order from the judge as he quickly took his leave. 

Altair suddenly found himself unable to breathe. He choked on his own breath and found Malik in the crowd with his sight as he was asked, not pulled, asked to stand from the chair. He did as he was told and presented the chains to the Bailiff. Giving a small smile, the bailiff released Altair and handed him a duffle bag.

“Call it tempting fate, or just a kind act, but I made arrangements for your old clothes and shoes to be here when the verdict was read out.” The bailiff chuckled, before placing his hand over his badge. “Safety and Peace, brother.” He whispered, before grinning and leaving the accused box.

Altair blinked and was left holding the duffle bag in his hands as stared into space. 

“This is a fucking set up!” Someone cried from the crowd.

“He murdered my husband, does that mean nothing to you!?”

“If the state won’t do it, I’ll kill the fucker myself!” Another voice growled. Altair turned to the crowd in time to catch a fist coming to his face. He backed away immediately, holding his nose and resisted the instinct to dive on the man and rip him to pieces. 

“Hey, hey!” And suddenly, Malik was grabbing the man across the chest with his one arm from behind. “Stop it! Holding onto this anger it’s the worst thing you could possibly do! Don’t let it eat you up from the inside. Believe me.” Malik managed to turn the man to face him. “Not because I’m a Doctor, sir, but because I know of your pain…” He whispered. 

The court had gone silent, mostly because the security had calmed everyone down in time to catch Malik’s words. Altair glanced up as he mopped his bloodied nose. He noticed men and women poised on the viewer gallery railing over the top of the main court. He caught the brief glimmer of hidden blades attached to their wrists, like they were ready to create a massacre, but had been instructed to still their blades.

“I know you may not wish to listen, but it’s important that you do. Don’t sink to his level of depravity.” Malik stepped back from the man, glancing around the court. “If you think berating a man who has already been dragged through the dust by the man who ordered the killings of your loved ones will justify the judge’s decision, then you are a lower person than he.” With that, Malik started to head towards the exit. Those attending the court parted like the red sea in front of Malik, then parting further as Altair followed closely behind.

“Nice speech.”

“I’ve been rehearsing it for weeks.” Malik gave a soft smile, glancing over his shoulder at the conv- no… the freed man following him. “You can change your clothes in the defence’s office.” 

Altair simply grinned to himself as he followed Malik through the crowds until they found the room in question. He heard Malik lock the door behind him as he placed his duffle bag on the table and started to search through his belongings. His old white hoodie was still there, washed and neatly folded. The beaked hood, a design the brotherhood was proud of, was ironed perfectly into shape. Only one of the brotherhood or a fucking good housewife would know how to iron it so perfectly. Perhaps both. 

He shed his bright orange prison jumpsuit and happily stood there naked in front of Malik, who didn’t seem bothered and let him get on with it as he organised and packed away his notes.

He placed his hoodie on the table as he continued to rifle through the possessions he hadn’t seen in 7 whole years. He smiled as he found his favourite jeans, the ones with claw mark style rips across the left thigh. Malik would appreciate how tight they were. He stepped into them, before tugging them up his legs. He buttoned and zipped them closed, glad he hadn’t gained nor lost any weight in his time inside. If anything, he’d gained a bit of muscle from the constant work outs he filled his days with.

“We’ll have to get you more clothes, Altair.” He heard Malik mumble to himself. “And don’t you dare wear that hood outside. It really wouldn’t be a good idea trying to wear a white hood when you’re walking out of the courthouse. You are known as the “white hood ripper” after all.” Malik explained and placed the hoody back inside the duffle bag. “Put the shirt on and you can wear my suit jacket. I have my coat here, so don’t worry.” 

Altair nodded, taking the suit jacket and carefully unpinning the sleeve from the left shoulder. Malik watched as the man pulled on the thin, tight white t-shirt and tugged the suit jacket on over it. He resisted the urge to suck his bottom lip between his teeth and hiss at the sheer sight of the man. 

Altair straightened the lapel of the suit jacket and returned to his duffle where he found his black vans brand shoes. Assassin shoes, thick hard-wearing soles, but flexible enough for any sort of crazy parkouring shit Altair had planned. 

“What’s this..?” Malik called as he leaned over Altair’s shoulder and reached into the bag. He watched as the man pulled a set of keys from inside and held them to his face to examine them. 

“… ‘Kawazaki’..?” Malik chirped and pulled the keys away as Altair made to grab them. “You have a motorbike?” He huffed, giving Altair a playful grin as he lunged for them again, but Malik simply turned away and kept the keys close to his chest. “Oh of course, because being an Assassin isn’t tempting death enough..?”

“Malik Al-Sayf.” Altair folded his arms over his chest after rolling up the suit-jacket sleeves. “Are you really so pessimistic?” 

“Says the man who sat in prison for 7 years and did nothing about it, waiting for a lethal injection.” Malik rolled his eyes and threw the keys over. “Hurry up and put your shoes on- and for the love of Jesus…” Altair did nothing but grin like an unruly child as Malik raked his hand through his hair, trying to tame it into something vaguely presentable. 

“Why are you so obsessed with this, Malik?” He finally questioned after he was forced to take Malik’s hand from his hair. “Who are you trying to impress, hm?”

“Oh I don’t know, perhaps all those vultures..?” Altair followed Malik’s vague gesture towards the window. He blinked and quickly hurried over, carefully glimpsing through the shutters and almost laughed at the sight.

“Jesus…” He heard himself breath as he took in the scene. Hundreds of reporters stood outside, cameras ready and already they were hounding the men and women exiting the courthouse. “Well shit.” He murmured.

“Mhmm…” He heard Malik sigh hard through his nose, then go silent. Altair didn’t hear him move from his spot over by the table, so left him there to think. Pressing closer to the window, he could see more reporters and even Television network vans parked at the road. They were really so desperate for any scrap of information. They must have been told of the verdict by now, enough people were being questioned by the reporters.

“How will we leave..?” Altair suddenly found himself asking out loud.

“The same way as everyone else.” Malik whispered as he walked up beside Altair and bent the shutters to see outside. “You have to face it at some point.” He turned his face and looked over Altair. It was the first time he could truly see the man in natural light. 

He never wanted to see him in the dank darkness of a cell ever again. Even the over-cast sun made the man’s skin seemingly glow like a damned angel. Malik swallowed as Altair noticed the staring and met his gaze. 

“Sorry…” Malik breathed as he looked back out of the window. “… for staring… sorry.” 

Altair sighed and looped a finger into one of Malik’s pockets, before giving a short tug. “Best get it over with right?” He whispered, pulling a little harder so Malik turned to face him. His eyes flicked up as he leant back on the wood panelled wall and kept Malik’s attention. 

“Best get what over with..?”

“All this new awkwardness.” Altair sighed. “It’s like you’re meeting me for the first time. You knew that bright orange prison jumpsuit came off, you have seen underneath it and you’ve seen me without chains… I don’t see what the problem is…”

“I… I never said anything like that… It’s just… It’s all hitting me… all at once… You’re free, we’re both free, this is all over. We can leave this courthouse together…” Malik swallowed and felt himself being pulled again by the belt-loop. He settled against the half-Syrian male and took a deep breath, his hand coming up to steady himself against the wall and to stop himself from crushing Altair. 

“And this has you so worried all of a sudden..?” Altair chuckled and placed his hands on Malik’s hips.

“I didn’t say I was worried… Just… overwhelmed.” Malik breathed and ran his fingers down from the wall, trailing them from Altair’s neck to his stomach, then resting it on his side. “And here I thought I’d have to help you deal with this all.” He laughed weakly.

“Judging by the crowd outside, you might have to.” Altair leaned up and fetched a quick kiss from Malik’s lips, before he was straightening up and clearing his throat. Malik didn’t move as Altair rounded past him and continued to search through his duffle bag. He turned and opened his mouth to question why he was brushed off so subtly, but a soft click from the door was interrupting him before he could croak out a single syllable. 

“Altair, we must get moving soon.” 

Malik rolled his eyes and moved back towards the window. The man was a bloody psychic.

“Of course, Shaun. Just allow me to put my shoes on.” Altair muttered as he glanced over his shoulder. “I will meet you at the doors. Give me a moment.” And with that, Shaun was pulling the door closed and had left them.

“Just how powerful are you in the Assassin Order..?” Malik asked as he approached the man searching his duffle bag.

“You mean what rank I am..?” Altair asked back. Malik nodded. “I’m not the Mentor. I’m a Master Assassin. But I have the respect of the brotherhood because of what I’ve done, not because of my rank.”  
“I’ve met the Mentor. He … he’s nice. Very Italian. He’s dating the pathologist.”  
“Small World.”  
“That’s what I said.” Malik chuckled and approached Altair carefully. He didn’t mention the unmistakable flinch Altair gave when he pressed up against his back and snaked his arm up to clench into the fabric of his t-shirt under the suit-jacket. He felt Altair’s heart beating within his chest against his fingers.

It was real.  
Altair’s heartbeat…

The smell of his skin…

The soft chuckle that slipped from his lips in response to this sudden clinginess…  
The feel of his clothes under his fingertips…

It was all so real.

**Author's Note:**

> I know a few of you must be all like; "He kills 9 people and gets set free!?" You gotta remember the Assassins were watching everything through the trial, and the Judge knew they would do horrible things to him if he didn't give a good verdict, so please don't start flaming!  
> Thanks :D


End file.
